The Brooklyn Diaries
by PJ XD
Summary: Alice Brandon is the poor kid, the art freak, at her elite Manhattan prep school. She has always thought of herself as invisible, or inferior. That is, until a friendship with Edward Cullen, one of the most popular guys at school, gives her a fast track to the inside. The more she discovers though, the less perfect their lives seem. Especially in the case of Jasper Whitlock... AH
1. January 21st

**A/N**

**So, the idea for this fic just popped into my head, because I was rewatching Gossip Girl and couldn't shake the idea for the story. Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The Upper East Side, including Constance Billard School for Girls and St. Jude's School for Boys, belongs to the wonderfully bitchy and entertaining world of Gossip Girl.**

* * *

January 21st

Dear Diary,

So, I decided to start keeping you. I don't know how long I'll stick to it, exactly, but hopefully it will last. See, the thing is, you're the only one I can really talk to – unless you count Cynthia, which I don't, because she's only twelve and still in middle school.

I suppose that I should really introduce myself. My name is Mary Alice Brandon, but anyone who calls me Mary gets a verbal beat-down, and fast. It's just Alice. Not that I really have much of a chance to give anyone a verbal beat-down, because nobody has bothered to talk to me in the three years I've been at stupid Constance. I'm the art freak who customizes her own uniform. I'm also the only one who takes the L train. It blows being the kid from Brooklyn when you go to school on the Upper East Side.

I do it, though, because my dad has worked his ass off to get me into that godforsaken school. He's determined that him being poor won't stop me from getting into RISD. I want to make him proud, particularly because he's managing to single-handedly run an art gallery and raise two teenage daughters since my mom bailed on us.

I have a routine, so that he's none the wiser to how miserable I am. Whenever he asks me how school was, I lie and say it was great. I help Cynthia with her homework. Then I lie some more and say I'm going out with my friends from school – of which I have exactly zero – and head down to Java Jones to meet Seth. And only then do I let my real feelings out.

Seth gets it. He's not a scholarship kid at a rich prep school, like I am, but he's my best friend, and he's got his own drama. His mom is a total good Samaritan – a nurse who works at the free clinic – and she's been devoted to a thousand different causes ever since Seth's dad Harry died two years ago. His sister, Leah, is the golden girl in her mother's eyes; she's at NYU studying journalism, and is a hardcore activist. Sue and Leah are two peas in a pod. Seth, on the other hand – he just wants his band to make it big. Seth's mom doesn't get him. Like, at all. It's not to say that she doesn't love him, but she's always going on at him to have a plan, or a bit more direction in his life.

I feel bad for him, but at least he likes public school.

Today was like most other days. I caught the train home, dumped my bag in our loft, and was about to head out. Cynthia was off doing… something… with her friends. Because she has more than one, because the torture of Constance hasn't been inflicted on her yet. I like to hope that it might be different for her when she starts in the fall. I'm kidding myself, though – those rich, elitist brats can smell the Brooklyn air on girls like me, I swear it. Like I'm wearing some special perfume. Eau de poor. Lovely.

Dad was on the phone when I found him, propped up against the kitchen counter and arguing at length with whatever art dealer he was speaking to. I signaled to him that I was going out, and he nodded. He looked tired, I noticed. Like he hadn't slept in a month. He probably hasn't. Not properly. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his black hair was rumpled from running his hands through it in frustration. I grimaced in sympathy as he rolled his deep brown eyes – exactly like mine – at whatever the person on the other end of the phone was saying. Blowing him a kiss, I left.

I got to Java Jones to find Seth, looking harangued, dutifully wiping up the last few tables before he finished his shift. A couple of girls were staring at him appreciatively, I noticed. Seth is incredibly cute, with his russet skin and his messy dark hair. He spotted me across the crowd and dimpled a grin in my direction. I hurried over.

"Hey," he greeted, shifting the mug-laden tray in his arms and pulling the cloth off his shoulder to wipe the table. The tray wobbled slightly, and I reached out my hands to steady it. He relinquished his grip on it to me as he leant across the table. I studied the back of his head, frowning.

"I didn't think you were working this late," I muttered. He stood to his full height – I'm only tiny, so I found myself craning my head back to see his face – and gently prized the tray away from me.

"I know. I stayed for some overtime." We walked back to the counter together, and Seth deposited the tray before leaning up against the bar. I spotted yet another girl giving him the look, and me the stink eye. She thought we were together. As did most people.

"You work too much," I fretted, pointedly ignoring the daggers being drawn my way.

"Naw," Seth shrugged. "It's cool. I can handle it."

I narrowed my eyes. He's just like my dad. Biting off more than he can chew all the time. But he looked so damn exhausted that, instead of chiding him, I let out a defeated sigh.

"The blonde behind you is checking you out," I informed him, and his eyebrows shot up.

"Where?"

"Don't be too obvious."

But Seth was never obvious. With a surreptitious glance to the side, he appraised the girl silently. She caught him looking, and he shot her a wink. She blushed. I rolled my eyes.

"How was school?" He asked me, hooking his foot around a bar stool and dragging it out for me to sit on. When I didn't, he patted the stool impatiently, and I hopped up as he rounded the counter to the employee side.

"It sucked," I said honestly, propping my slightly pointed chin in my hands. Seth made a sympathetic noise.

"Those rich bitches still giving you a hard time?"

I shrugged noncommittally. Truth be told, I was more ignored than I was picked on. "They're just too snobby to bother speaking to me."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Honestly, would you want friends like that?"

Probably not. But it would make my life a lot less lonely. I told him as much.

"Think of it this way, Al," Seth said. "You've got what? A year and a half left to endure. You're two thirds of the way there."

I couldn't decide whether that was uplifting or depressing, so I changed the subject. "I saw the news."

"It's on every day," Seth replied with a smirk. I leaned across the counter to thump him on the shoulder.

"I know that, jackass. I meant, I saw _Leah_ on the news."

"Oh," Seth grinned knowingly. "Right. Her 'don't tear down the community center' spotlight piece. She's been harping on about it all week."

"_I_ think she was great," I offered.

"_I _think she sounded like a pretentious ass, but I appreciate the cause all the same."

Just then, we were interrupted by a booming voice from the door to the kitchen. "Clearwater?!"

It was Aston, the manager. Seth and I called him Assface behind his back. His tone meant business, though, and Seth was still on the clock, so he rolled his eyes and muttered, "I'll be right back."

I watched him vanish into the kitchen, and then cast my gaze around. People-watching was one of my favorite things to do. I would sometimes sit in the park with my sketchbook and draw them, just random passers-by who caught my attention. A red-faced jogger. A harassed mother with three kids. An old man falling asleep on a bench in the afternoon sun. Sometimes, I would make up stories to go along with it – what their lives were like back home, what they did for a living, what they lay awake at night thinking of. I could spend hours doing it.

My eyes landed on a girl sipping a latte and nervously glancing at her watch every five seconds. She was quite pretty. Spanish-looking. She reminded me a little of Maria, the queen bee at Constance, only she wasn't sneering. My fingers itched to draw her; the tense set of her shoulders, the way she kept chewing her bottom lip. I imagined that she was waiting for someone. A date, maybe. She didn't think he was going to show.

Her eyes went wide in relief when the door opened and a tall, handsome guy sauntered in. He looked Spanish, too. I wondered if maybe I'd been wrong, if maybe he was her brother.

He bounded across the packed coffee shop and scooped her up in his arms before planting a loud, enthusiastic kiss on her lips. Not her brother, then.

"Eleazar, you're late," the girl said breathlessly, and he leaned down to give her an Eskimo kiss.

"Got held up at work, Carmensita," he murmured. I turned my eyes away to give them a private moment.

That's when the door opened, and my gaze fell on the last person I had ever expected to walk through the door of a coffee house in Brooklyn.

Edward Cullen.

He was instantly recognizable by his tousled bronze hair, even if he was dressed in an Armani sweater and dark jeans, instead of his St. Jude's uniform. I'd never seen him out of uniform before.

Edward was part of the 'in' crowd at St. Jude's, the boys' counterpart to Constance. We shared a school building, a headmistress, a quad, and assemblies every morning, but apparently we were two different institutes. Edward Cullen was the elite of the elite, the richest of the rich. His father, Carlisle Cullen – well, everyone's heard of him. He's the most renowned plastic surgeon on the eastern seaboard.

I heard a rumor once that Edward was adopted. I didn't know why, but that made me like him more, despite the fact that he was as aloof and untouchable as the others. Maybe it was because, like me, he didn't _really_ belong in that world. Maybe we were the same. Deep, deep, deep down, that is.

His eyes flashed around the room, scanning for an empty seat. He found one, at the table just to the right of where I was sitting. Casually, he strolled across the room. I observed his walk – it was laidback. Carefree. Most of the Constance girls would be clutching their Marc Jacobs purses to their chests in terror if they were in this neighborhood. Edward was… unfazed.

It was odd.

After a moment, he seemed to sense that I was staring at him, because his bright green eyes flickered up to meet mine. There was a question in his expression, like he recognized me, but didn't know how. I thought he'd look away, but after a second, he spoke.

"Do I know you?"

Unsurprisingly, I felt myself flush. "Um, no?"

He nodded, but then frowned. "Wait… yeah, I do. You go to Constance."

My eyebrows went up, astonished that he'd made the connection. "Yeah. I'm Alice," I offered, and then realized that he hadn't actually asked for an introduction. He didn't seem to mind, though.

"Edward." He pointed at himself unnecessarily.

"I know." I cringed as soon as the words were out of my mouth, but to my surprise, he smiled ruefully.

I don't know how it happened, but suddenly he'd kicked out a chair and gestured for me to join him. I took the seat, feeling a bit perplexed. This was like something out of the twilight zone. Guys with bank accounts like his didn't speak to girls like me.

"What brings you to Brooklyn, Alice?" he asked. I groaned inwardly. So he didn't know that I lived here.

Well, the conversation had been fun while it lasted. "I live a couple of blocks away."

I expected the walls to come down and the sneer to come out. Instead, he nodded. "Right. You've got a long way to travel to school."

It didn't sound snotty, so I didn't mind the statement. "Yeah, I take the subway."

"Me, too," he responded.

Again, I was surprised. "I thought you had a town car?"

He grinned, a little abashed. "I do. I just prefer to be inconspicuous. I hate all that showy shit."

I smiled. Here was Edward Cullen, talking to me like an actual person. "How come you're in Brooklyn?"

His face fell slightly, the sparkle in his green eyes dimming. "My brother goes to rehab around the corner."

Ah. Yeah, I'd heard about that. Emmett Cullen's drug habit. Of course I'd heard – it had been splashed across every paper in New York City. I remembered the gossip that had spread like wildfire around school. I suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for Edward.

"They sent him to Brooklyn?" I wondered. Edward grimaced.

"My mom thought it would be, y'know, better. Away from all the paparazzi." He shrugged, though I could tell that the idea bothered him. "I was just visiting him."

"Are your parents not here?"

"They're busy." The way he said it, the words twisting bitterly, elicited another pang of sympathy.

"That sucks," I said honestly. He smiled.

"Yeah, you can say that again."

"So how come you didn't just go home?"

"Full of questions, aren't you?" he teased, but he sounded faintly amused. "I didn't go home because I couldn't really face it. Mom's having her coven of friends over, and I didn't fancy making small talk and listening to her dodging questions about Emmett."

"Do you see your brother a lot?"

"Every couple of days, yeah."

"How is he?"

"Getting better." Edward sighed. "He's ready to be released, in all honesty, but I keep telling him to put it off. The Upper East vultures are still circling, and I don't think he's prepared enough to deal with them yet."

Just for a moment, I considered the possibility that Edward's life sucked more than mine did. I shook off the thought as quickly as it had come. Who was I kidding? The silver spoon in his mouth was infinitely preferable to a life of scrimping and scraping, paparazzi be damned.

"How come you were sitting here by yourself?" he asked, snapping me out of my reverie. I blinked at him for a moment before answering.

"Oh, I'm just waiting for my friend Seth to finish work."

"Seth Clearwater?"

"You know him?" I was astonished.

"I've seen the _New Moon Wolves _play a couple of gigs," he explained. "They're a pretty good band, actually."

I grinned. Seth would _love_ that. "I'll tell him you think so."

Just then, the door opened again, and a wave of January air swept through the stuffy shop. On instinct, my eyes flickered towards the door.

I nearly passed out.

If I'd been shocked to see Edward Cullen walking into Java Jones, that was nothing, _nothing_, compared to how I felt when none other than _Jasper Whitlock_ strolled in.

Jasper Whitlock was… well, he was everything I wasn't. His father was Peter Whitlock, as in, Whitlock Enterprises and Holdings Inc. He was hands down the richest guy in Manhattan. His mother, Charlotte, had once been Lotti Masters, the famed Victoria's Secret model. One glance at Jasper showed that he had all of his father's imposing presence and his mother's obnoxious beauty. Tall, lean and muscular, with slightly curling hair a few shades more gold than his smooth, tan skin, he hovered in the doorway, looking like the portrait of an archangel.

His deep blue eyes scanned the room, until they landed on me. Well, I thought they'd landed on me, but when he raised a hand in greeting, I realized that he was looking at Edward.

Of course he was. Edward and Jasper were best friends. Jasper was popular – no, he was the frigging _king_ of St. Jude's. Even before he'd been a senior. His loyal subjects fell at his feet both during school and out of it, probably crushing a few of the girls who had bent down to lick his shoes on the way.

I forced myself not to hyperventilate at the sight of him walking over to us. Like every other girl on the face of the planet, I spent much of my school day swooning at him whenever he walked past. Jasper Whitlock had been the object of a long-standing obsession since the first day I had laid eyes on him.

Having a crush on the hottest, most popular, richest guy in school – is that too much of a cliché?

I mean, I'm the girl who had gone door to door collecting to raise money for my downstairs neighbor Riley, so that he could be included in a clinical trial to help his brain tumor. I'm the girl who had saved up her lunch money every day in ninth grade so that she could buy her sister the flat iron she wanted for Christmas. I'm the girl who goes to gallery openings for the art, not the champagne. I'm the girl who volunteers at the free clinic on the weekends.

Yet, somehow, I, Alice Brandon, am hopelessly into a guy based on his _looks_. I'm ashamed of myself, but there it is.

Jasper stopped at our table, his eyes sliding from Edward to me – briefly – and back again. He didn't ask what I was doing there. He didn't ask who I was, even. Instead, he drew back a chair and flopped into it, before leaning to his best friend and lowering his voice.

"How's Em doing?"

Edward shrugged. "He's getting there."

"Your mom going to let him come home any time soon?"

"I doubt it."

Jasper nodded sympathetically, and sat back in his chair. He didn't even so much as glance in my direction. It was as though I was another piece of the furniture.

Now, I could have been one of those girls who just sat there, sycophantically staring at Jasper with goo-goo eyes, willing him to notice that I was even alive. A small, shameful part of me wanted to be. Another, larger part, wanted to be mad at his complete rudeness.

I didn't know what would be better – shrugging it off in dignified silence or giving him a piece of my mind. Thankfully, I was spared from the decision, as Edward gestured towards me with one empty hand.

"Jasper, this is Alice Brandon."

His blue-eyed gaze slid over to me, and locked. The cobalt in his eyes sparked with a glimmer of recognition, and what I thought – or maybe, hoped – was interest. "Constance-Billard's answer to Frida Kahlo," he said.

I didn't know whether to take that as a compliment on my art or an insult on my looks. A couple of my paintings had been featured in our school magazines. One was even hanging in Headmistress Dwyer's office. She likes me. Always says her daughter and I would get along. Isabella, her name is, apparently. Not that that helps me in any way. She doesn't go to Constance – she lives with her dad in the Hamptons.

I stopped my tangential thoughts when it became clear that Jasper was waiting for some kind of response from me. I was a bit embarrassed by what actually came out of my mouth. "Did you take the train here?"

Jasper looked at me like I was insane. "No… I took my limo."

Naturally. Because that's how easy his life is. And when he got home, he could just send for the maid to bring him a sandwich. Or caviar on toast, or whatever it was that filthy rich people ate.

"Your carbon footprint must be enormous. Unless you car pool." I was kidding, but Jasper looked completely bewildered.

"Car pool?" I wondered if the concept could have possibly made less sense to him. Maybe if I'd spoken in Latin.

Edward seemed to find my question amusing. "Jazz, I think she was joking."

Jasper frowned. He looked confused. I wondered, idly, if girls were ever sarcastic to him. I wondered if they ever did anything except drool on his fancy shoes.

"Um, alright." He turned to Edward. "Are we gonna go and eat? I'm starving."

"Sure, there's this great vendor down the road that does amazing tacos."

"Street food?" Jasper wrinkled his nose. I was abruptly overcome with the urge to punch him in his superior face. Instead, I balled up my fists at my sides and mentally counted to ten.

"Or not," Edward saw his expression. "We could always go to the Imperial."

"Now you're talking," Jasper replied enthusiastically. "I really want steak."

"Weren't you supposed to be going out for dinner with Maria?" Edward realized, frowning at his friend. Jasper shrugged noncommittally.

"I bailed. She's driving me mad. All of that 'school spirit for Ivy Week' crap is really going to her head. She's in charge of the events committee."

Of course she was. She was Maria de Lucia. She got everything. Committee titles, class presidency, a group of bitchy minions to bend to her every whim. Oh, and did I mention? Jasper. She got him. As a boyfriend. It wasn't unexpected, really. The fashion designer's daughter and the mogul's son. The prettiest girl in school and the most handsome guy in the universe. The Manhattan royalty. Of course they'd end up together. It didn't matter that she was a hateful bitch.

Sigh.

"I don't understand why you put up with her," Edward said, curiously voicing my thoughts. "She's a nightmare."

Jasper shrugged again, but there was something in that shrug that made me think he wasn't just being vague, that there was some sort of story there, and not a happy one. It was like there was something he _wanted_ to say, but wouldn't.

I puzzled over that one for a moment.

It was then that Seth came out of the kitchen, shrugging his jacket on as he went. He looked around for me, confused, but his face brightened when he spotted where I was sitting.

"Ali!" he exclaimed when he was level with the table. "You would not believe what Assface just said to…" He trailed off, seeming to clock for the first time that I wasn't alone. His eyes flickered from Edward to Jasper and back again, and he broke into a warm grin.

"You're that guy who introduced Jake to Tanya Denali, aren't you?" he said to Edward. Edward nodded in affirmation. My eyebrows rose. At least that explained why Tanya Denali, Manhattan's best known club promoter, had known about Seth's band. I'd thought she'd seemed kind of big league to have been trawling underground bars in Brooklyn.

Edward Cullen had connections, and apparently wasn't afraid to use them. I was startled to realize that I might actually like the guy.

"Wow," Seth was saying. "Thanks, man."

The two of them began an animated conversation, and as I watched them interact, I noticed that Edward looked entirely comfortable. He knew my side of town a lot better than he was letting on, I suspected, though I didn't know why. Jasper, on the other hand, looked sort of… uneasy.

It took me a second to twig that Jasper was studying me, too, like he'd been tasked with memorizing my face. He seemed to notice me noticing, and hastily dropped his gaze.

Seth asked him a question, which seemed to pull him out of his quiet reverie. He answered cordially, even warmly, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to relax automatically. I listened to the conversation, intrigued. It seemed that Jasper played guitar as well. Seeing him talk to Seth, I felt confused. I'd thought Jasper was uncomfortable being in Brooklyn, but maybe it had been something else that had made him seem so closed-off and haughty.

Maybe it was me.

I shook off that thought. He didn't care enough about me one way or the other to act differently around me. Did he?

Edward and Jasper left shortly after that, Edward promising to catch up with me in school. Like we were friends. It was very odd. Jasper had nodded curtly, making no such promise. He'd shaken Seth's hand and clapped him on the shoulder, though. I was starting to take it personally.

Seth and I had walked home together, at a pace somewhat like a crawl.

"I thought you said you had no friends at school?" he accused teasingly.

"I didn't. Edward and I just started talking today."

"He's a good guy."

"Yeah," I agreed, "I think he might just be."

"Did you do something to offend Jasper?" Sometimes I forgot how astute he could be. Of course he picked up on the weird vibe. Nothing gets past Seth Clearwater. Although he'd never admit it, I think he has a promising future following in his sister's journalistic footsteps.

"No," I replied. "I don't know what his problem was."

"He seemed like an okay sort of dude," Seth said reasonably. "But there was definitely something weird about the way he acted around you."

I thought of Maria, and the way her posse went out of their way to make my life a living hell. The others ignored me, but Maria… not so much.

"His girlfriend hates me," I concluded. "Maybe that's it."

"Men don't hate chicks because their girlfriend does," Seth scoffed.

We spoke no more about it as he deposited me at my front door and wished me goodnight. I watched him disappear down the sidewalk, hands stuffed in his pockets and whistling away.

When I got upstairs, Cynthia was in, but Dad was gone. Probably out working. Cyn was playing some drum and bass shit in her room, and I could feel the vibrations through the wall as I collapsed on my bed and flipped open my laptop. I checked Facebook, and stilled.

_Edward Cullen wants to be friends: accept/ignore._

Grinning, I clicked 'accept' and surfed through his pictures. I was just being nosy, but my hand halted over the mouse when a picture of Jasper and Maria flared up on screen. Maria had her arms draped around his shoulders, and was grinning, and there, in the background, was Jasper's CEO father. He was watching them expectantly, and Jasper… well, his smile looked very wooden. There was no light behind his dark blue eyes.

I was an artist. I knew people. I studied people. I understood body language the way I understood color and shade and texture. Jasper's body language was screaming 'I don't really want to be here'.

My brow furrowed. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something was off about Jasper Whitlock. Maybe the golden boy didn't have such a gilded life after all…

Just then, my chat box pinged. I opened the message, and found, with some surprise, that it was from Edward. It was only two lines, but it made me smile.

_Thanks for letting me offload on you today, Alice. I think you might be the only person who hasn't looked at me like I'm a freak when I bring up Emmett. _

I typed him a quick response.

_Don't worry, Edward. Everyone looks at me like I'm a freak all the time. I get where you're coming from. _

The answer came through instantly.

_Well, then, I guess us freaks have to stick together. _

I signed off, feeling lighter than I had in months.

I actually have a friend who goes to my school. Maybe. I wonder whether tomorrow might not be as heinous as every other day at Constance.

I hope so.

Love always,

Alice


	2. January 22nd

**January 22nd**

Dear Diary,

So, today was interesting. And I truly mean that. I'd started to get ready – I'd adapted my tartan school dress by sewing a fuchsia underskirt to it. I appraised myself in the mirror. Long, black hair, slightly wavy. Big, dark eyes framed with darker lashes. I'm slight, but I have curves. My waist goes in, and my boobs aren't small. They're not huge, either, but then, I'm not even quite five feet tall. My four inch heels brought me up to five three.

I'd never been able to decide whether I'm pretty or not. My features are pixie-like, and my chin is a bit too pointy. Seth says I'm hot, but that's Seth. He's not fussy. 'Girl' and 'breathing' pretty much summarizes his type. Unable to help myself, I imagined what Jasper's type might be. Not me, that much was certain. My reflection sighed at me.

I was just applying my mascara when Cynthia swanned into my room.

Cyn looks just like me, right down to our identical height. I mean, I look sixteen, and she looks twelve, but she's still as tall as I am. Which isn't saying much. She sat down on my bed and frowned at me in the mirror.

"You look weird," she told me, without preamble. I froze in my action, the mascara wand hovering just below my eye. Realizing my mouth was hanging open like a goldfish, I shut it. Ever notice how it's impossible to put on mascara without opening your mouth?

"Everyone looks weird when they're putting mascara on," I answered distractedly. Cynthia narrowed her eyes.

"That's not what I meant," she told me carefully. "I meant you look kind of… hyper."

I swiveled on the chair, setting my mascara down on the vanity, and stared at her. "What are you on about, Cyn?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were excited about school. But I know that can't be true, because you go to Constant-Bullshit."

I choked back a laugh. That was Seth's name for Constance. "Don't swear, Cyn. Have you been hanging out with Seth again?"

She shrugged, looking unabashed. "He's funny."

And she's had a huge crush on him for as long as I could remember. I refrain from mentioning that, though. "Alright. Don't let Dad hear you calling it that."

"So, why are you so happy?"

"I'm not."

"Are, too."

I huffed at my sister, and swatted her head as I stood up and grabbed my bag. I noticed Cynthia looking at my dress wistfully.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I wish I was as talented as you, Ali," she sighed. "You should be a fashion designer."

That's the dream. She knows that, though, so I didn't bother to tell her again. Instead, I smiled at her and ducked out of my room.

* * *

Catching the subway in Brooklyn is normal. Walking out of it on the Upper East Side wearing a customized Constance-Billard uniform – well, everyone looks at you like you've just sprouted another head. I was a few blocks from school, with my head down to avoid the scornful looks, when I heard someone yell my name.

"Alice!"

I paused. Whoever it was was probably calling someone else with my same name. Instead of turning, I just carried on.

Then I heard it again. "Alice, wait up!"

I turned around, and grinned when I saw Edward jogging up the street towards me. His cheeks were flushed with the January cold, even though he wore his coat open. The yellow St. Jude's shirt he had on was untucked, his tie crooked. He looked like he'd gotten dressed in a rush.

When he caught up with me, I noticed how tall he was for the first time. Over six feet, easily. He grinned down at me, a little breathless from the run.

"Hi, Edward."

"You didn't stop," he accused.

"I didn't expect it to be you," I admitted. "People in this part of town don't usually call for me."

Edward pulled a face. "Yeah, well, people in this part of town are strange."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Aren't you from this part of town?"

"Yeah, but I…" He trailed off as we reached the steps to school. Passing through the gate with Edward at my side, I hadn't even noticed the stares we were attracting. But it had been impossible not to notice the icy glare coming from the girl standing at the top of the steps.

Her dark curls were perfectly coiffed, a pink headband perched on top of them. She wore her uniform in a virginal yet stylish way. In fact, everything about her screamed virginal and stylish. She smiled at me as we approached, but it wasn't a kind smile. It was predatory, like a shark.

"Al-issss." She dragged my name out in a simpering way that instantly got my back up. She was a hundred and ten pounds of girly evil.

"Maria," I replied warily. Her smile widened.

"Sweetie, look at you. Did you design that dress yourself?"

"Yeah." My chin came up defiantly.

"Adorable." Her eyes flashed to Edward. "And you guys are friends now?"

"You bet, Maria." Edward's jaw was set in determination. "Now, if you'll excuse us…"

I felt a thrill of smugness as Edward gently, yet insistently, moved Maria out of the way, and stepped aside to let me past. I walked away, and the second I was more than three meters away, Maria's minions converged on her, babbling excitedly at the prospect of Edward and I being friends. I distinctly heard the words 'freaky Alice' and 'dating'.

They thought that Edward and I were going out. I sneaked him a sidelong look, and the dry amusement in his eyes made it obvious he had heard, too. He was incredibly handsome, I realized with a start. I would be lucky to date him. But when I looked at his green eyes and unruly copper hair, I couldn't help thinking about eyes that were indigo blue, and hair a rich shade of gold. I couldn't see Edward that way, because the only person I had ever really thought of like that was Jasper.

Still, there was something about Edward, something in the hard angles of his face, the unusual tones of his hair and eyes against his pale skin that made me ache for my paintbrush.

"I'd really like to paint you," I blurted without thinking. Edward froze mid-step, angling his body to face me. He looked, as always, amused.

"Paint me? I think that has to be the strangest thing a girl has ever said to me."

I jabbed a finger at myself. "Hi. Freaky, artsy, emo Alice. Have we met?"

He laughed. Not just in an uncomfortable way. In a real, warm, genuine way. I had a feeling that being friends with Edward would be as effortless as being friends with Seth, and the thought made me feel all fuzzy inside.

My warm and fuzzies gave way immediately to a wave of panic when I heard a very familiar drawl from behind me.

"Edward, there you are!"

Sure enough, when I turned in the direction of the voice, there he was, sauntering across the quad with his bag slung over one shoulder and his hair disheveled in an unutterably sexy way. He had on a black coat that probably cost more than our rent, and a long green scarf tucked under the lapels that made his eyes look even bluer.

He was so beautiful that it made my stomach hurt, and I forced myself to look away.

"Jazz, hey."

I noticed that he didn't greet me, despite the fact that we'd been introduced. He did look at me, though. One long, sweeping gaze from my hairline to my shoes, a gaze that felt as tangible as a caress. I shivered, and not from the cold. It was absurd, though, for me to feel suddenly weak at the knees. That look was probably one of disdain. Except his expression was oddly blank.

Thankfully, we had reached the door where we would part ways. I headed off into the girl's corridor, with a hasty 'catch you later' in Edward's direction. He nodded and smiled, and I joined the throng, trying my damnedest to forget about Jasper Whitlock's eyes on me.

And failing, obviously.

All morning.

* * *

Usually, when I eat lunch, it's by myself at one of the tables in the quad. Maria and her cronies eat on the Met steps, and the St. Jude's boys spill out all over the benches, relishing the fact that they had free reign while their girlfriends were absent to engage in lewd conversation and grumble about them behind their backs. I usually sat by, completely invisible, and listened to those conversations. It surprised me how few of them actually seemed to enjoy their girls' company when they weren't sucking them off.

Jasper never complained about Maria. Yesterday, to Edward, was the first I'd heard. I perched on the wall by the flowerbed as all of the Constance girls flocked elsewhere, rooting around in my bag for my lunch. I think I had to be one of about three of the entire student population who actually brown-bagged it. Of course, none of the guys ever paid enough attention to me to comment on it.

Mike Newton was telling a story to a raptly listening audience of upperclassmen, gesticulating wildly as he spoke. I only caught the gist of if, but from what I'd gathered, his mom and the housekeeper had walked in on him and Jessica Stanley having sex.

Jessica was one of Maria's gang. I loathed her as much as she did me. The story made me savagely pleased, in a way. I hoped she'd felt ashamed.

Knowing what I knew about Jess, though, I doubted it.

Tyler Crowley, Mike's best friend – and long-suffering boyfriend of the insufferable Lauren Mallory – erupted with laughter as Mike finished his tale. Eric Yorkie – a more reserved, nerdy type, who was most definitely going to end up at M.I.T or Yale becoming the next Mark Zuckerberg – seemed to blush slightly at the thought of anything so horrendous happening.

Ben Cheney shook his head ruefully at the others. "Angela would've died of embarrassment, if that had been me and her."

Angela Weber, daughter of Robert Weber – founder of Weber Music Records, was the nicest of Maria's coven of witches. She was painfully shy, but well-connected. Extremely well-connected, which is why Maria kept her around, I thought.

Maybe I should give you the lowdown on Maria de Lucia's hierarchy of horror, just so you know, Diary. At the top, obviously, we have Maria. Queen bee, honor student, committee chair, longtime girlfriend of _the_ Jasper Whitlock. Below her, Nettie Harrison and Lucy Cartwright-Myers, her second- and third-in-command, respectively. They were vile. Then there were the lackeys, Jessica and Lauren. And the fringe members, like Angela Weber, and Rosalie Hale.

I suppose that Rosalie Hale doesn't really count as a member. She was Constance's 'it' girl, the one everyone wanted to be, and Maria's best friend. She was never a sycophant, but a shot of life into the stuffy institute. Beautiful, blonde and carefree, she drew attention from people like a flame draws a moth. Everyone wanted to either be her, or be with her.

Then there was whatever happened with Royce King. Nobody really knows the details, and some of the rumors have been so wild that I don't even want to believe them. Next thing we all know, she's been shipped off to boarding school in Connecticut.

Nobody has seen her for a year.

To be honest, I think Maria was glad. A chance to finally rule the school and hog the spotlight.

I'd liked Rosalie. She'd complimented my art one time. She smiled at me in the corridors. I'd wanted to find out what happened, but there was only one person who knew the whole story, her cousin, and he wasn't telling. Not that I would've had the courage to ask.

Can you guess who it was, Diary?

I'll give you three guesses, but you'll probably only need one.

That's right. Jasper.

Speak of the Devil… he emerged into the quad just as Mike started up on another story, lunch tray in hand and Edward at his side. The other guys immediately made room for them, and the pair dropped casually into their seats. I was obscured by a rosebush, so they didn't see me, but I could hear every word of the conversation.

"Just drop it, Edward, okay?" Jasper was saying in a low voice.

"I'm just saying, man, that if you really want to break free of your parents' mold, then…"

"I know. But it's not like I even have the option to break free."

"You're entitled to be happy."

Jasper snorted. "Happy? Please. I'm a Whitlock, Edward. You're a Cullen. Neither of us are entitled to happiness."

"That's not true."

"What we're entitled to is a trust fund. A summer house in the Hamptons. Maybe a prescription drug problem. But happiness isn't on the menu."

The bitterness in Jasper's voice had surprised me. I'd caught a glimpse at it in Edward's words last night, but it sounded even worse in Jasper's deep baritone. He sounded so… hurt. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to comfort him. What sort of life did he live that meant he wasn't entitled to be happy?

"Break up with her, Jazz."

"I can't."

"You don't want to be with her anymore."

"You don't get it. My mom expects me to be with Maria. She wants me to give her the family ring…"

A stab of hurt wrenched my heart at the words. Jasper, give Maria a ring? I couldn't think of anything worse.

"You don't love her."

"I owe her."

"You don't."

Jasper sighed. "You're just a romantic, Edward. You've got no fucking idea what relationships are really like."

Edward seemed to be silent for a moment, before exhaling softly. "Well, you've got me there."

Now Edward was the one who sounded injured. Jasper was immediately contrite.

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that to come out so…"

"It's okay. You're right. But I'm right, too. When I meet a girl I want to be with, I'll be with her. But I'll never let my parents pressure me into being with someone I don't want."

Edward sounded so convinced, and for a second, I wished I felt that way about him. Because any girl who could be with Edward would be the luckiest woman on the planet.

An idea was forming in my head, a resolve to see if I could find someone for my new friend. I bookmarked it in the back of my brain as I was dragged out of my reverie by the sound of my own name.

"…with you and that Alice chick, Edward?" Mike Newton was asking, amid interested murmurs.

"Nothing," Edward answered honestly. "We're friends."

"Lauren _hates_ her," Tyler put in. "But I think she's pretty hot."

I felt myself flush involuntarily as I heard a general murmur of agreement.

"Kinda short," Mike interjected. "And a little bit freaky, but yeah, on the whole…"

"Freaky works, though, if she's a freak in the right way…" Tyler said suggestively, to loud snickers from his friends.

"Shut up." It was Jasper's voice, sharp and full of censure.

"What's up, Jazz?" Tyler sounded concerned.

"Don't talk like that, okay?" Jasper was unshakable. He almost… hell, he almost sounded angry. "Not about Alice."

Not about me? Not that I was a fan of being objectified, Diary, but I couldn't help but wonder why he was so repulsed by the idea. And, yeah, I'm not going to lie. I was hurt. Really hurt.

I thought he was gorgeous, and he was disgusted by the very notion of me.

I sure can pick 'em, huh?

"Relax, it's not like it's ever going to get back to Lauren," Tyler assured Jasper.

"I don't care. Just don't."

I could only see half of Tyler from my hidden viewpoint, but it was enough to see him shrug. "Okay, whatever you say. But Edward, tell us. Are you going to hook up with Brandon or what?"

I was too depressed by Jasper's shut-down to even hear Edward's answer. Suddenly not hungry anymore, I stuffed my half-eaten sandwich into my bag and hopped down off the wall. I turned to head back indoors…

And found myself face to face with Jasper.

Cue mini-heart attack. He'd gotten up to go and retrieve some papers or something that had been blown away by the wind, and was now clutching them so tightly that they crumpled in his hand. Our eyes locked; brown and blue. His gaze was unreadable.

Unable to stand it, I ducked my head and all but flew past him.

* * *

The afternoon passed in a blur. I take senior level calculus, so I sat with Edward in class. He made fun of Mr. Fogarty's mustache the entire lesson, which had me shaking with silent giggles. Everyone kept craning their heads to look at us, but I shrugged it off.

So did he. It was brilliant. Just as good as spending an hour or two with Seth.

When I walked out of school, it was to find Jasper being accosted by two girls who go to Trinity. Maria was nowhere to be seen, so that must have been why they were dumb enough to make a move. One of them was leaning in so close to him that she could probably count his eyelashes. She was tall enough to be able to, I thought with a pang of jealousy.

Her simpering voice drifted up the steps towards me. "So, does your dad have his own private jet? I mean, he is Peter Whitlock, isn't he?"

"Uh, yeah, but…"

"What's it like? Having a dad that won GQ Man of the Year three years running?"

Lonely, I'd imagine. But the question wasn't directed at me.

Jasper looked uncomfortable. He was trying to edge away from her without being rude, that much was obvious, but the girl had hold of his elbow. Forward much?

I ground my teeth, before checking myself. What did I care? Jasper wasn't mine to feel territorial over.

Oh, but how I wished he was.

Eventually, the discomfort on his face grew too much for me to handle. Taking pity on the poor boy, I bounded down the last few steps and pushed my way past the two blonds impatiently.

Brushing hair out of my eyes, I looked up at Jasper with what I hoped was a winning smile.

"Jasper, there you are! Did you forget?"

Jasper looked nonplussed. "Forget what?"

"Calculus tutoring?" I extracted my calculus book from my bag and waved it under his nose to emphasize my point. "I knew you'd forget!" I tried to make my tone lighthearted and accusing at the same time. "It's nearly four!"

"Oh," Jasper breathed, his eyes widening in understanding. "Oh, yeah, I'm sorry, I completely spaced." He turned to the girls, and with remarkably good acting skills, gave them a grimace. "Sorry, girls. I've got to run."

I wanted to grab him by the hand and tow him away, but I was too nervous to touch him in case he balked. That's why I nearly jumped in surprise when he reached out for my wrist, his long fingers wrapping easily around it, and began to gently pull me away from the Trinity girls.

My bag thumped in time with my frantic heartbeat as he tugged me along until we rounded the corner. There, he stopped, staring down at me with those insanely blue eyes.

"I don't know how I managed to forget our tutoring session, Alice," he said softly, wry amusement saturating his tone. "I must be suffering from selective amnesia. Especially since I don't take calculus."

I blushed like a schoolgirl with a crush. Apt, seeing as that's what I was. "Sorry. You looked like you needed rescuing."

"You weren't wrong," he assured me, eyes sparking. "Does it make me a bad person to say that I hate all of that hero-worship stuff when it comes to my dad? I just can't stomach it. As soon as people know who he is, they treat him differently. Treat me differently. It's kind of messed-up."

That was the longest sentence I'd ever heard come out of Jasper Whitlock's mouth. And what a mouth it was… no, Alice! Focus on the story! Sorry, Diary, I'm clearly obsessed. Anyway…

"That must suck," I said, because I didn't know what else to say. It's not like I can identify with rich people problems.

"Yeah, it kind of does. So, thanks. You know, for rescuing me." He looked at me for the longest moment, and sudden tension seemed to crackle into being around us. I was electrically aware of the fact that he was still holding my wrist. My skin seemed to burn where he touched it. In a good way.

Jasper swallowed noisily. I watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat with the movement. Was it just me, or did he seem kind of nervous?

Who was I kidding? It was just me.

A noise pulled me out of my daydreams. A buzzing noise. Jasper seemed not to have noticed.

"Um, Jasper?" I mumbled. "You're vibrating."

"Huh?"

"Your pocket is vibrating."

"Oh…" He released my wrist, and the sudden cold in the absence of his hand on mine seemed to sting with loss. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out one of those all-singing, all-dancing smart phones, and tapped the screen. He huffed. "Damn. I'm supposed to meet Maria."

"You don't sound very enthused," I pointed out, as gently as I could. His eyes flashed over to mine again, and he opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then thought better of it. He shrugged.

"We're fine. It's fine."

Maybe it was just because I'd overheard him at lunch, but the words sounded forced to my ears.

"Sure."

"I've, uh, gotta go, Alice. Thank you, though. Again."

Jasper gave me a smile, his first warm smile in my direction, and I felt as though I might burst with sheer joy. There was no sight better in the whole of New York City than Jasper Whitlock with a smile on his face.

As he turned to go, I found myself unable to resist asking the question that had been niggling at me.

"Jasper?"

He looked back over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"What _is_ it like? Your dad being who he is?"

His head tilted to one side, and he ran one hand through his honey blond hair a few times while he mulled over the answer. I wondered for a moment if he was actually going to give it to me.

He did, and when he said it, my heart expanded so much that I thought it might break free of my chest. "Lonely, Alice. It's lonely."

Watching him walk away, I suddenly realized something. Something important.

For all I idolize him, for all the entire school thinks he is God, Jasper Whitlock is just a teenage boy. A lonely, messed-up kid from a dysfunctional family.

He might be rich, and gorgeous, and have everything handed to him on a plate, but he and I have far more in common than I'd ever thought possible.

Until next time,

Alice


	3. Emails - January 26th

**A/N: There are only going to be a tiny portion of chapters that aren't Alice's diary entries, and this is the first one. Hope you like!**

**PJ**

**x**

* * *

_To: rosaliehale1 _

_From: jjwhitlock _

_Subject: Hey, little cousin_

_Text:_

Hey, Rosie,

So here goes, my monthly update. Mom and Dad are fine. Well, as fine as they can be. Maggie's pregnant, but I think she's scared to tell Mom in case she decides that her services are no longer required. I wouldn't put it past her. Crazy thing is, her baby's father apparently wants nothing to do with the whole thing. What an ass, right?

I miss you. So does your mom. She keeps demanding to know why she hasn't gotten a reply from any of her emails. You'll be pleased to know that I told her it was because she was a raging bitch who had shipped her daughter off to another state because she couldn't stand the scandal of bringing rape charges against a member of the King family, even though he's guilty as hell. My mom gave me a lot of grief for that one, but it was so beyond worth it to see the look on Aunt Madeline's face.

Vera told me to send you her love. She also asked if you got the baby pictures of Henry. She says she's coming back to work in a month, although she wishes you were at home so that she could take care of you. She looks amazing, really happy. I'm almost jealous.

Here's the real reason I'm emailing you, Rosie. I know it's not fair to ask, but I want you – no, I _need_ you – to come home to New York. Edward misses you, too, and I know he's worried. We all are. I want to know that you're alright. Rose, you're the closest thing I have to a sister. You're the closest thing to sanity in this fucked-up family. I need my cousin back.

Mom wants me to give Maria Grandma's ring. She says it's good to have a plan starting early, but I know it's just because Dad wants the deal with De Lucia Designs to go off without a hitch, and putting us all on the same family tree with ensure that. I told them that I don't even know if I want to be with her anymore. They told me I was being ridiculous.

I'm not being ridiculous, Rosie. This isn't a seven year itch. I wrote it off as that at first, too, but I was wrong. See, there's this girl. She's… I don't even know how to explain her. She's my parents' worst nightmare given form, I guess. She's all into art, and music, and old poetry, and deep stuff like that, which is pretty cool, if a little trippy. But she's… I don't know! She's _something_, that's for sure. I've been being creepy stalker guy, I'll admit. Just watching her when she's not looking. She's super-smart, and she just kind of does her own thing. She doesn't answer to anyone, and she doesn't give a damn what anyone else thinks.

It's crazy how I feel when I look at her. I mean, she's this tiny little thing – I could fit her in my back pocket – but she's got this huge personality, and she's like… a firework. Shit, that sounded really lame. You know I'm not good at putting this shit into words. In a way, Rosie, she kind of reminds me of you. She's beautiful without even trying to be, and she just seems so… fearless.

When she spoke to me the other day, I swear, I felt alive for the first time in about a year. I know I can't be with Maria. I know that. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to me. But Mom and Dad…

Between us, Rosie, I think Dad is using again. I found a packet of coke hidden in his desk drawer. I flushed it, obviously, but late last night I heard him searching his office.

I hope everything's going okay with you. I hope Connecticut doesn't suck as much as Manhattan, right now. On second thoughts, I hope it does, so that you'll come back.

Love you,

Jasper

* * *

_To: jjwhitlock _

_From: rosaliehale1 _

_Subject: RE; Hey, little cousin_

_Text:_

I'm coming home, Jazz. We'll talk on Sunday.

I love you.

Rose

xoxo


	4. January 28th

**January 28th**

Dear Diary,

I know it's hard to be on the outside when you exist in the world of the Upper East Side, but I don't think I've ever truly appreciated how hard it is to be on the inside until today. Today was one of the hardest things I've ever had to watch.

An insider's return, when the rumor mill had been churning out vitriol for over a year.

Yep, that's right.

Rosalie Hale came back to Constance today.

I was in third period English when she came through the door. I didn't see her at first, because my nose was buried in A Tale of Two Cities, and I was busy annotating the part where Sidney – anyway, I digress. Point is, I felt this sort of ripple go through the class, like a collective intake of breath, and I glanced up, and there she was.

She looked exactly as I remembered. Effortlessly stunning, tall, blonde and statuesque. Her head was held high, and her curiously violet eyes were firmly fixed on the teacher's desk as she approached. She cleared her throat, and Professor Colchester turned to see the source of the interruption.

That's when the whispers started.

"Rosalie…"

"Rosalie _Hale_…"

"I heard she went to rehab."

"I heard she wigged out and got sent to the psych ward."

"I heard she was pregnant, and her mom sent her away until she had the kid."

"Do you think we should ask her?"

"Do you think…?"

I was watching Rosalie, to see how she would react to the explosion of stage whispers around her. To her credit, she acted like she couldn't even hear them. Instead, she murmured something to Professor C, and he nodded. She swiveled on one Louboutin-clad foot, and marched herself to the back of the class, one desk behind me. I resisted the urge to turn in my chair to study her.

The whispers were awful. They got more and more outlandish as the lesson progressed. I didn't know what to say, how to let her know that I was in her corner without coming across as pushy or interfering. Instead, I ducked my head, and allowed my curtain of black hair to fall in front of my face as I continued to read.

About halfway through the lesson, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I turned expectantly, to find Rosalie Hale studying my face like she was looking for something specific. Her eyes were curious, though, not disdainful. "Yeah?" I whispered.

"You're Alice Brandon, right?" Rosalie's voice was just as I remembered from the last time we'd spoken. Clear, commanding, but also somehow friendly.

"That's me," I responded, pleasantly surprised that she'd remembered my name. Not many Upper East Siders did. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," her response was measured. "I just… you're friends with J- uh – Edward, aren't you?"

Since as recently as a week ago, but I neglected to mention that. "Yep, I am."

She leaned forwards slightly, her long blonde curls spilling over her desk. "I remember you. You did that changeling painting that was in that gallery on 85th."

I blinked, taken aback. "Yeah, I did, how did you…?"

She smiled, and somehow reminded me of Jasper. "My friend Kate owns the place. She loves your stuff."

I felt myself flush with pleasure. "Well, thanks. That's kind of awesome."

"You live in Brooklyn, right?" she checked. I nodded, expecting a derogatory comment, but instead, her unusual eyes lit up. "Do you know the Ostroff Center?"

"Yeah, it's a couple of blocks away from me," I said slowly, wondering where she was going with her questions.

"Great," she enthused. "Then, can I ask you a favor?"

I nodded.

* * *

Edward summoned me at morning break. I found him lurking in a corner of the quad, seemingly bursting to talk to me. I set my bag down at his feet and dropped onto the wall beside him.

"You seem keyed up," I noted. "What's the deal? Too many espresso shots this morning?"

His smile was pained at best, and he kept nervously shifting his feet. "Ali," he muttered, tugging on a lock of his copper hair. "You have to help me."

I sobered up from my teasing mood, instantly alarmed. "What is it?"

"There's a new student here today. You have to help me show her around at lunch!" he all but begged. I raised my eyebrows at him, confused.

"Edward," I said slowly. "I don't think you can count Rosalie as a new student, technically, and she already knows her way around, so…"

I trailed off as he gaped at me. "What?"

"I said…"

"_Rosalie's_ back? _Here_? Rosalie _Hale_?"

"You didn't know?" That information surprised me. I thought everyone knew. I'd especially have thought Edward knew, considering his best friend was Rosalie's cousin. "Jasper didn't tell you?"

It was embarrassing, but just saying Jasper's name made my pulse speed up. I really didn't know anything about the guy, so why did he have such an effect on me?

You know, Diary, my mom always used to say to me that I'd meet a boy who I instantly liked one day, for no rhyme or reason, and that would be that. 'When you know, you just know' she used to say. Of course, that was before she ran off to Hudson to find herself, and ended up finding a fitness instructor named Claude in the process. I guess she wasn't exactly the right person to make me believe in true love.

"Jasper's not at school today," Edward responded, and it took me a second to remember what question I'd even asked. "And I haven't spoken to him since Saturday."

That didn't sit well with me. What was wrong with Jasper? Was he sick? There had been something in the mournful look in his eyes the last time I'd seen him that had made me worry.

"Okay," I shook off the feeling, once again reminding myself that Jasper wasn't mine to worry about. "So who's this new girl, then?"

"She's…" Edward's eyes suddenly went alarmingly wide and he turned a worrying shade of green. "Crap! She's headed this way!"

While I stifled a laugh at Edward attempting to blend in with a tree, I turned to appraise whatever blonde Barbie sexual predator had made him so utterly terrified. I frowned. There was no showy rich bitch there. Not anyone that would make Edward run for the hills.

The only person I saw was a girl about my own age, with a pale, heart-shaped face and a cascade of thick, shiny mahogany hair that was a few shades darker than her wide, chocolatey eyes. She could be painted, I thought, in a palate of entirely browns and creams, with a soft smudge of pink on each side for her cheeks. She looked very pretty, but very unthreatening.

I turned back to Edward, incredulous. "Do you mean her?"

"Yes!" he hissed, now attempting to hide himself, unsuccessfully, I might add, behind me. I shook my head at him, bewildered.

"What's her name?"

"Isabella," he answered immediately. He clearly had no idea why I'd asked.

"Isabella!" I hollered, and the girl turned, catching sight of me as I waved at her like a moron. Edward groaned audibly.

She shuffled nervously over to my side, and seemed to notice Edward. She frowned in concern when she saw how stressed out he looked. "Are you okay?"

He mumbled something unintelligible, and began shredding leaves with his fingers. I realized that I would have to take the reins on this meeting. I stood and held out my hand.

"I'm Alice," I offered. "It's nice to meet you, Isabella."

"Just Bella. Bella Swan," she replied quickly, pushing her hair back in a nervous gesture I recognized from the mirror. "I hate Isabella."

I grimaced in sympathy. "I know how you feel. Mary Alice Brandon. But please, never call me Mary." We shook. I noticed that Bella was about an inch taller than I was, except she was in flats and I was in four inch heels.

"Your dress…" she said softly. "Did you do that yourself?"

I glanced down at my Constance uniform. "Yeah, I made some alterations."

"It looks great," she said, and she sounded as though she meant it. "I wish I was stylish enough to do stuff like that."

Bella wasn't speaking with self-pity, merely humble fact. I liked her already. There wasn't an air or grace about her.

Edward was still trying to become a chameleon behind me. I noticed Bella shooting him a couple of nervous looks out of the corner of her eye. I frowned at him reproachfully. The poor girl was shy enough! What was his damage?

In hindsight, I should have spotted the signs, but I was too busy trying to make the poor girl feel at ease to notice the bright crimson blush on Edward's cheekbones, or the way he kept nervously running his hands through his already messy hair. I did what he asked, though. I offered to show the girl around. She accepted gratefully, mumbling something about hating being the new girl.

"It's even worse," she confided. "When people find out I'm the Headmistress's daughter."

Ah. I remembered Headmistress Dwyer talking about her daughter, suddenly, and I grinned. "Your mom said we'd get along, once."

"She did?" Bella seemed astonished that she was talked about. I got the distinct impression that she was a bit of a wallflower.

It was only then that I clocked Edward's self-conscious shifting, the way he kept clearing his throat nervously, and the way he seemed to be simultaneously trying to make himself look nonchalant whilst blushing like a berry. My mouth dropped open into a stunned 'o' of surprise.

Edward liked Bella. Oh. Oh. Oh!

Being the interfering busybody that I am – if you don't believe me, ask Seth – I immediately began to formulate a plan. And I was talking about the mother of all plans. There would be stages. Maybe even diagrams. I could rope other people in. Jasper, maybe, or Rosalie. After tonight, Rosalie _would_ owe me a favor…

* * *

Bella, I discovered throughout the day, was into a lot of the same things as I was. The same music. The same books. She even liked surrealist art. She was quiet, but spoke with a certain honest gravity to everything she said. In fact, I found that I liked her so much, I even invited her back to Brooklyn with me. We'd been talking about Java Jones, and I'd mentioned the poetry reading going on at six. She'd asked, tentatively, if she could come along sometime. I instantly invited her.

We were sitting side-by-side on one of the low leather sofas in the back of the coffee shop, still in our Constance uniforms, and both hugging mochas to our chests, when I decided to test the waters.

"So, I'm sorry about Edward, earlier," I said casually, keeping my eyes trained on her. "He's not usually such a blithering idiot."

Bella gave me a wan smile, and blushed bright pink. Of course, I'd observed Bella blushing about fifty times already in the one day I'd known her, so that didn't really tell me much. Still, it couldn't have been a bad sign…

"No," she mumbled. "He was perfectly nice."

"When he could form a sentence," I replied, smirking wickedly. I needed to stop relishing in other people's discomfort. I was beginning to turn into Seth.

Speaking of… he vaulted over the back of the sofa as soon as I thought this, springing from nowhere and nearly making me slosh my coffee all over my lap. I squeaked in indignation.

"Damn it, Seth!"

"Sorry," he apologized with a shrug, and then noticed Bella. "Hey, there."

"Hi," she replied quietly. She didn't blush, though. _Interesting…_

"And who might this be?" Seth turned to me, all expectant looking.

"This is Bella Swan. Bella, this is my best friend, Seth Clearwater."

Seth took her hand with a flourish. "Charmed, my dear." He planted a kiss on her knuckles. This time, Bella blushed, but I think it was more down to embarrassment than anything else.

"Leave her alone, you!" I admonished, smacking him upside the head. Seth shrugged apologetically.

"Sorry, babe, you know me."

"And ain't that the truth," I muttered darkly. Bella laughed.

The poetry reading wasn't terrible, but it wasn't the best I've heard. The lead singer of Seth's band, Jared, had written some truly terrible haikus that had the three of us rolling around in our seats. Jacob, the bassist, joined us after about half an hour, and really hit it off with Bella. He left with Seth around eight, demanding that they go and practice for their upcoming gig. Seth left, somewhat begrudgingly, muttering something about Jake being like a dog with a goddamn bone.

"Jake's nice," Bella said, now on her fifth cup of coffee.

"Yeah, he's a good guy. A little immature sometimes, but good fun."

"I like Seth, too. You've got some good friends, here."

"What about Edward?" I asked slyly. Yes! There it was again! That blush.

"Edward is…" Bella grinned at me sheepishly. "Well, he's… very… nice-looking."

I snickered. "Yeah, he's easy on the eyes. He's a hell of a catch, too."

Bella seemed to toy with the handle of her mug for a long time before speaking. "So, you and him, you aren't…?"

"God, no!" I laughed. "Not that there's anything wrong with Edward," I added hastily, seeing the alarm in her eyes. "Like I said, he's amazing. It's just…"

"You like someone else," she surmised, with surprising accuracy.

"How'd you guess?"

"I can see it on your face. Who is it, if you don't mind my asking? Is it Seth?"

The look I gave her was incredulous. "Seriously?"

"Okay," she laughed. "I guess not. Have I met him?"

"No," I sighed, and then decided, on the spur of the moment, to tell her. It couldn't do any harm, and besides, she seemed extremely trustworthy. I was good at sizing people up, and I'd gotten the measure of Bella within a few short exchanges. "But you probably will. He goes to St. Jude's, so you'll see him around at school. Particularly if you hang out with Edward. He's his best friend."

"Oh, right," Bella said softly. "Um, Jasper, right? Jasper Whitlock?"

Good memory, that girl had. Well, either that, or she knew who Jasper Whitlock was. I wouldn't be surprised. Everyone did.

"Right," I agreed.

"Doesn't he have a girlfriend?" Bella pointed out, not unkindly. "I swear Edward mentioned…"

"Yes," I told her, the reminder of Maria making me feel like I had swallowed a lead balloon. "And she's a total heinous bitch."

"Aren't they always," Bella muttered dryly, and I found myself smiling.

"He's not interested in me," I told her.

"I find that hard to believe."

"You don't have to be nice. The problem is, he doesn't want to be with his girlfriend. I overheard him telling Edward. I think his parents are pressuring him into it."

"That's horrible," Bella shuddered. "I can't imagine the kind of people who would do something like that."

"I can," I murmured. It was sad but true. "If you go to Constance for long enough, you'll meet plenty of them."

Bella digested this news in silence. I glanced over at her to see what she was making of the crazy train that was life on the Upper East Side, even on the periphery. Fucked-up doesn't even begin to describe it. I wondered if she would take it all in stride, like Edward did. She was quiet, sure, and timid, but there seemed to be an innate strength about her that emanated from her very core. Maybe, just maybe, she was tough enough to take it. Maybe with her as a friend, I would be, too.

I said goodbye to Bella and put her in a cab around nine thirty. I hadn't realized how late it was. I was meant to be meeting Rosalie at the subway in five minutes. I hot-footed it to the stop just as she was emerging from the steps. She caught sight of me as soon as her blonde head poked out into the cold January air, and she waved. It was an enthusiastic wave. How weird. A week ago, I'd had no friends at Constance. Now, I might even have three. And Jasper Whitlock knows that I exist. It's a funny old world.

Rosalie looked effortlessly stylish – and tall – as she made her way over to me. She was still wearing her Louboutin boots, but had traded her uniform for a fitted Chanel jacket and a short burgundy dress I'd seen in the Kurt Geiger winter catalogue. She was so pretty that it hurt my ego to stand too close to her.

"Hi," I said lamely when she reached my side. She beamed at me.

"Hey, hun. You haven't been waiting long, have you?"

"Not at all," I shook my head. "So, you want to go to the Ostroff center?"

Rosalie nodded, a sharp jerk of her head. "Yep. We need to sneak in, though. My mom would blow a fuse if she knew I was coming here. The very idea of me in a rehab facility makes her want to faint."

Again, I noticed that twisted bitterness in her tone. It was the same one that had belonged to Jasper, and, to a lesser extent, Edward. Like there was something seething beneath the surface, just waiting to explode out of her in a torrent of rage and resentment.

Maybe rich kids _did_ have problems, and I was just too close-minded to notice before.

Rosalie talked as we made our way through the relatively empty Brooklyn streets. She was amicable and bubbly, but I noticed that every so often, her gaze would harden, and whatever she had been about to say would die on her lips. I didn't take her reluctance to share as a personal slight, though. Not anymore. Secrets and lies and pretense. That was how the other half lived.

"Who is it?" I asked eventually, when it occurred to me that she still hadn't told me. "Who are you visiting?"

"Just a friend," she said evasively, tucking one blonde curl behind her ear. "He's had a rough time of it, lately, and I haven't really been there for him like I should've."

"I'm sure he understands," I placated her. "You've been living in a different state."

"I shouldn't have been," she muttered darkly. "I should never have left. I wouldn't have, had I known…" But again, she broke off, before I could find out what exactly it was that she should have known but didn't. Again, I didn't hold it against her. None of my business, anyway.

"Do you know why Jasper wasn't at school today?" I asked conversationally, in an attempt to change the subject. It was the wrong thing to say, apparently, because I almost heard the crash as the barriers descended behind her eyes. Her jaw clenched.

"Yeah, I do." She didn't elaborate, but her eyes blazed with controlled fury. I wondered who it was directed at – Jasper, or someone else.

"You guys are cousins, right?" I checked. I found myself suddenly desperate to glean some sort of information out of her, anything that would help me get to know Jasper better. Lord, but I was pathetic.

"Yeah, we are. Closer than that, though, really. More like siblings. He's pretty much the only member of my family I actually like." A fond smile lit her features, transforming her from merely beautiful to almost inhumanly stunning.

"Is he… I mean, what's he like? Outside of school?"

Even though I tried to sound casual, I could tell that Rosalie wasn't buying it. She turned on me with keen violet eyes.

"Why so interested?"

I shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "Just curious, I guess."

She seemed to accept this explanation, at face-value, anyway. Still, there was a knowing look in her eyes as she responded.

"He's… honestly, Alice, he's the best guy in the world. I always used to call him a bleeding heart. He's more than that, though. He carries the weight of the whole damn world on his shoulders, all the time. And he doesn't once complain about the burden. He just bears it."

"How can someone do that?"

Rosalie smirked. "With an incontrovertible sense of humor. At least, that's what Jazz says."

I smiled at that. It sounded like something that Edward might say. I wondered if, when Jasper loosened up, he was witty in the same way. The idea made my heart stutter.

We'd reached the front door of the Ostroff center by then, and I was getting ready to bid Rosalie farewell as she sized up the building. Her brow was furrowed, clearly thinking hard.

"How do you suppose I'll sneak in?" she mused, tapping her chin with one manicured nail.

"I have a suggestion. Walk through the front door, and you can just use my name on the sign in sheet. I don't mind."

She looked at me in shock, gratitude swelling in her eyes. "You'd let me do that?"

"Of course. It doesn't bother me if anyone thinks I was there. Nobody knows me, anyhow."

I was totally taken aback when she bent down and hugged me tightly. "Thanks, Alice. You really are the best!"

After that, she hurried off inside with a wave. I stood on the sidewalk outside for a few minutes, just trying to collect my thoughts. I'd spent the last three years watching the soap opera that was the Upper East Side, and now, finally being a part of it, it was even more confusing as a bit player than an observer.

It's too late to back out now, though. My natural born curiosity is piqued.

I just hope that curiosity, in this instance, _doesn't_ kill the cat.

Love,

Alice.

* * *

**A/N: Three guesses as to who Rose is visiting? Tee hee. And next chapter will be very heavy on the Jalice interaction, because there was absolutely none in this one. Plus, a little bit of what Jasper was doing on the weekend will be revealed. **

**Thanks for reading,**

**PJ**

**x**


	5. February 5th

**A/N - Thank you to all my reviewers so far! **

**This chapter mentions Casablanca, one of my all time favorite movies, but alas, I own nothing. Still. Sigh.**

* * *

**February 5th**

Dear Diary,

Today was one of those days where it's so surreal, so unexpected, that you end up half convinced that you've dreamed the entire thing. I've settled into this new routine in the past week or so, and this morning was as normal as my new routine could get. I got up, I got dressed, I scarfed down breakfast with Cynthia, I made my way to the L train and met Bella at the other side. She had a paper cup in her hands when I came to the top of the steps – coffee. That was part of the new routine, too.

When we got to school, we met Rosalie, who had been sitting with Edward on the steps of the quad. Bella immediately started talking with Rosalie, and then Edward made a few vowel sounds before succumbing to embarrassment and exiting stage left.

It was easy to endure school, now that I had Bella and Rose. Rosalie handled the bitching and gossip with poise that would make Grace Kelly look like trailer trash. Bella was timid, but unfalteringly loyal, and didn't quail under the withering looks as much as I'd originally thought she would.

At lunch time, Rosalie reserved a table in the quad. Well, I say reserved. What I meant is that she slammed her bag down on a table full of freshman boys and told them to make room for her friends. They seemed to take this as an order to clear off, which had Rose bewildered. I told her that Maria ran a tight ship around here since she left. That drew a frown from her.

"I don't know what her issue is," Rose huffed as she accepted the frozen yoghurt Bella had run to get from the cafeteria. She shoved an indecent amount of strawberry yoghurt into her mouth and swallowed noisily. "She seems to have decided that nobody is good enough for her."

"I wouldn't say that," I argued, nodding my thanks to Bella as she set my own banana yoghurt down in front of me and slid onto the bench beside Rose. "She thinks Jasper is good enough for her."

"Jasper's too good for her," Rosalie muttered bitterly. I blinked, surprised.

"I thought you two used to be best friends," Bella said lightly.

Rosalie pointed her spoon at her sternly. "Emphasis on the 'used to be'. She's a complete nightmare, really. I don't know why I didn't see it before. I watched her terrorizing half our year over the past week, and wondered what sort of person I used to be, that I was friends with a person like that. Now I'm on the receiving end of all her shit."

Bella grimaced in sympathy. "Wow, Rose, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She shrugged. "I'm over her, and that part of my life… there're more important things."

"Like whoever you keep visiting in Ostroff?" I said slyly. Bella giggled. Both of us knew of Rose's trips, but neither of us had been clued in on who it was she was visiting. Needless to say, we were dying to find out.

Rosalie flicked her spoon at me, sticking out her tongue. "That's for me to know."

"You want to tell me, I know you do."

"And yet…" Rose raised one eyebrow at me, grinning.

* * *

Edward joined us for the last half of lunch. He even managed six complete sentences in Bella's direction – I was strangely proud. Jasper still wasn't at school today. He's been gone for over a week now. I'd asked Rosalie if he was okay, to which she'd said something noncommittal.

Rosalie got the subway home with me. She said that she was visiting her friend at Ostroff. I don't know how she never bumps into Edward there. He goes to visit his brother fairly often, but somehow his path never crosses with Rose's. I can't help but wonder if that's deliberate on Rosalie's part.

Something that is definitely deliberate on her part is her avoidance of talking about Jasper. Edward knows something – of course, because when doesn't he? – and he's keeping his lips zipped as well. He has this annoying habit of knowing everything about everyone, and yet not spilling the beans to those of us on the periphery.

I dumped my bag at home, as usual, and then headed to Java to meet Seth. I found him in a corner, a copy of the New York Times open in his lap and a frown on his face.

Jared and Paul, two members of his band, were sitting on the couch opposite him, and blatantly ogling two girls who were drinking coffee at the next table. I recognized one of them as Jacob's sister Rachel Black. The girl with her was a friend of hers from school – Kim something, I think.

I decided to interrupt their fun.

"Jared, Paul, enjoying the view?" I asked serenely as I dropped into the vacant seat beside Seth and planted a kiss on his cheek. Seth nodded distractedly at me in greeting, before returning to whatever article he was reading so intently. I frowned. Seth was never usually so interested in current affairs.

Paul glared at me reproachfully. "Be cool, pipsqueak. I don't want Rachel to think that I've been staring at her."

"Even though you have," I replied with a grin. "C'mon, Paul, you know you can't go there. Jake would brain you."

"Pfft!" Paul scoffed. "I'd love to see him try."

"He'd own you, man," Seth muttered without looking up. "Quit while you still have four limbs."

Jared snickered.

After a second of pretending to quail under Paul's withering look, I turned to my best friend and poked him sharply in the side. "Sethy, what'cha reading?"

"You might find it interesting actually, Ali. You remember that guy that was in here with Edward Cullen?"

My pulse jumped. "You mean Jasper?"

"Yeah, that's his name. His dad's in the paper."

"His dad's always in the paper," I dismissed. "I don't see how that's interesting to you."

Seth shook out the broadsheet and draped it across my lap. "I love a good scandal. See for yourself."

Frowning, I peered down at the spread. My heart constricted painfully when I read the title.

_**Billionaire Businessman Arrested for Embezzlement **_

"Oh my God!" I gasped, my eyes flying across the rest of the story.

_Billionaire CEO of Whitlock Enterprises and Holdings Inc. has been arrested on seven counts of embezzlement, tax evasion and fraud. It is thought that Peter Whitlock (47) had been siphoning off money from his company into several offshore accounts in order to fund a cocaine addiction, as well as several illegal ventures which have not been confirmed. _

"Poor Jasper," I whispered. The picture of Peter Whitlock at the top of the article was awful. Him being led out of his Manhattan apartment in handcuffs. Jasper's mother was in the shot, too, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"Rich dick," Jared snorted dispassionately. "Got what was coming to him. You know Whitlock Enterprises is the reason my dad can't get a damn accountancy job now? That sanctimonious shit of a CEO blacklisted him after he discovered some unsavory money deals on the company books."

"Wow, man. I bet he's happy about this," Paul whistled. "Talk about karma."

"I… uh…" I stood up abruptly. I didn't know what I wanted to do. Part of me wanted to see Jasper, but I knew I didn't have any right. Not that I'd even know where to find him.

"Ali?" Seth's forehead creased. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. I just… I gotta go." No way was I going to listen to the boys as they continued to trash talk Jasper's dad. I didn't know the guy, and he probably was an ass, like Jared said, but I couldn't help taking any slight against Peter Whitlock as a dig against Jasper. I had no right, but I took that personally.

I left Seth and the others looking completely bewildered by my speedy exit. Scandal on the society pages was so much worse than gossip in a local bar, which was the most anyone in Brooklyn had to deal with.

I wandered home in a daze. I kept thinking about Jasper, hoping that he was okay, but I fully expected the next time I saw him to be at school, acting as though nothing had happened.

I definitely didn't expect him to be sitting on my doorstep when I got back.

I had to pinch myself to make sure that I wasn't dreaming. I have a bruise to show for it, now, and yet he didn't disappear like the mirage I thought he was.

No. Instead, he looked up at me with those eyes – that amazing, vivid color, like the sky on the edge of night – and ran one hand through his golden hair distractedly. I noticed that there were some real differences in him. He was still gorgeous, obviously, but his face looked peaky, and his eyes were ringed with dark circles. He looked as though he hadn't slept for the entire week he'd been absent from school.

"Hi," I said lamely, once I'd gotten over the shock enough to find my voice. I was still standing there, frozen, with my keys in my hand. Either he hadn't knocked yet, or Cynthia wasn't in the house to let him in. I sort of hoped it was the latter.

"Alice." The way he said my name, full of quiet fervor, made me shiver. "I… um… I don't really know why I'm here. I decided to go and see Emmett, earlier, and…" He almost grinned. "I see that you've been visiting him, too. Strange, seeing as you've never met."

My eyes lit up as I realized who it was that Rose was going to see, but my glee was short lived when I realized that Jasper was still waiting for an explanation, a wry smile on his face.

I blushed, casting around desperately for something to say. "I… uh…"

He seemed to take pity on me, because he relented with a tired smile. "Relax, Alice. I know it was Rosie, not you."

"How do you…?"

"Because it seems like something she'd do," he replied. He sighed slightly. "She'd never use her own name in case her mom found out, but I knew there was no way she wouldn't go and see Emmett."

"She's friends with Edward's brother…" I said slowly. "How did that happen?"

"Oh, Emmett used to hang out with me and Edward all the time. Rose did sometimes, too. Emmett was always the guy who would bail Rosie out of trouble when she was drunk off her face and needed someone to pick her up and look after her. That was until…" He broke off, catching himself, and changed tack. "Until she left."

"How did Emmett end up in rehab?" I asked. "Is he an addict or…?"

Jasper grimaced. "It's not really my story to tell, Alice."

I respected that, for once. There was a sadness in his indigo eyes, though, something untenable that made my heart twist painfully.

"Are you okay?" I breathed. He winced, whether at the question or at my intense tone I wasn't sure.

"You saw the paper." It wasn't a question. He seemed almost disappointed by the fact that I knew.

"Yeah, I did. Did he do it?"

Jasper stared at me for the longest time, his expression unreadable. Bizarrely, he broke out into a grin. "You don't beat about the bush."

"Sorry," I muttered, flushing again.

"Nah, don't be. It's kind of refreshing, actually." His face darkened. "He definitely did it."

"Oh," I replied. I didn't know what else to say.

Jasper jerked his head towards the front door. "So, do you mind if I come in?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

My heart pounding, I fumbled with the keys and let the both of us into our loft. It was empty, as I'd thought. I whirled about, flicking on lights and attempting to move the piles of laundry on the couch into a less conspicuous position, while Jasper leaned against the wall and pretended not to notice my frantic tidying.

"Nice place," he said. I turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Your place is probably nicer."

"My place is… cold. This feels like a real home. It's sort of… arty, though."

"So am I," I responded, finally satisfied with the state of the room. I sank onto one of the chairs, and gestured for Jasper to sit. He unhitched himself from the wall and crossed the room in two long strides, before throwing himself onto the couch bodily.

"I know." There was a smirk on his face that made my stomach flutter. "This place suits you."

I didn't know what to make of that, so I changed the subject. "How did you know where I lived?"

He coughed a little awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck to attempt to cover his discomfort. "I, um, looked at the contact information on the Ostroff sign in sheet."

My heart stuttered. "Why?"

"Well, I…" He broke off, swallowing nervously. "I don't know, to be honest. I wanted to escape, to get away from the Upper East Side, and you were the first person I thought of. Besides, you rescued me once before."

The crooked smile he was giving me made me feel lightheaded. I tried to get a grip on myself. "Well, okay. I suppose I can dust off my shining armor and save the day again."

Jasper's phone buzzed in his pocket. He arched his back as he stretched in order to extract it, bearing a strip of his tanned, muscled stomach. I averted my eyes with a slight blush.

He sighed when he saw the caller-ID, but answered anyway. I took his distraction as an opportunity to drink him in, unnoticed.

"Hi." A pause. "Yeah, I know." A longer pause. "Because I didn't want to face the paparazzi that are camped outside my building." Pause. "Damn it, Maria, I don't know!"

My insides froze at the mention of Maria's name. Jasper's whole body was radiating tension, his grip on the phone so tight that it whitened his knuckles. "I understand that… no, I do… Look, Maria, this isn't about how it makes your mom look… I know she wants to… but that's not… hey, I think this just might be affecting me more than it does you, Maria! My dad might end up in jail!"

He pulled the phone away from his ear and just stared at it with raised eyebrows for a second. Meeting my gaze, he shrugged. "She just hung up on me."

What a colossal bitch, right? I couldn't stand holding my tongue, and because I can't leave well enough alone, the next words out of my mouth were "Why are you even with her?"

Jasper bit down on his bottom lip. "Honestly? I don't even know anymore. She used to be… different. More fun. Less manipulative. It's just lately…"

"She doesn't deserve you." The words slipped out before I could stop them, and Jasper's eyes widened fractionally.

He gave me a sad smile. "You don't really know me, Alice. I think if you did, you'd be more than willing to believe that we deserve each other totally. She's perfect for me."

I tried to pretend the words weren't a knife to the heart. "Meaning she's rich and beautiful?"

Jasper looked incredibly serious when he answered. "No. Meaning that she's more concerned with appearances than reality. Meaning that she'd rather live in a perfect little bubble than do something brave, or kind, or anything she wasn't expected to. And I'm the same. I was perfectly happy to live in my own little delusion, so long as everything around me remained normal."

I was at a loss for words. I longed to reach over and stroke his hair out of his eyes, to pull him towards me in a hug, but I clenched my fists tightly and forced myself to remain where I was.

"I don't think that's true," I reasoned. "Or else you wouldn't be here, talking to me."

He smiled. "Maybe you're right."

"To be honest," I muttered, dropping my gaze to my hands. I twisted my fingers nervously as I spoke. "I thought that you didn't like me all that much."

Jasper's dark blond brows knitted together. "Where the hell did you get that idea from?"

"You seemed pretty uncomfortable around me at Java Jones the other day."

"Discomfort doesn't mean dislike. Truthfully, Alice, you do make me a little bit uncomfortable." Upon seeing the way my face fell at that, he reached out one hand, but let it fall before he could actually touch me. "No, I didn't mean that how it sounded! It's just that… I guess I don't know how to talk to you. You're so different."

"Because I'm from Brooklyn?" I said wryly. There it was again. Being poor is a complete handicap in Jasper's world.

"No," he replied resolutely, shaking his head for emphasis. "It's not that at all. Well, maybe it's that in part, but not for the reasons you think. You exist in this world where you can just… be. There's no pretences, no bullshit. And you're the same at school. People talk about you, but you don't care. You do your own thing. So I knew that I couldn't just impress you because of my last name. I was afraid that if I actually spoke to you, you'd think I was a total ass, and you would hate me. I find it all kinda intimidating."

His confession was delivered with complete sincerity, and without breaking eye contact. I felt myself blushing furiously at his compliment.

"Well…" My voice was a little shaky. "I gotta say, I find the fact that you've just said that pretty intimidating."

He beamed at me, and I wondered if I could ever get used to seeing Jasper smile like that. He lit up the whole room.

"So, what do you do for fun in Brooklyn?"

"Aside from looting stores and lighting fires in garbage cans with the rest of the riff raff?"

He laughed. "Yeah, aside from that."

"Well…" I stood, making my way over to the bookshelf. Even though my knees were trembling, I was surprised at how easy it was to speak to Jasper. I'd looked at him like he hung the moon for so long, but now, with him sprawled across my sofa, he actually felt like a real person to me. And, somehow, that made him better.

I pulled out a DVD box and crossed the room to present it to him with a flourish.

"Casablanca?" Jasper asked doubtfully.

"Yep. Whenever I want to escape, I put on an old movie and make some microwave popcorn. It works every time."

"Isn't that kind of a chick film?"

"It's universally likeable, gender be damned."

Jasper sat back on the cushions, his biceps flexing with the movement. I tried not to stare at him, dressed in his preppy cardigan and low-slung designer jeans. Obviously, I failed. "Okay, I'll bite. Microwave popcorn, eh?"

"It's the best," I enthused. "Trust me."

Apparently, he did, because we settled down to watch the film a couple of minutes later, with a big bowl of popcorn to share. Jasper had laughed incredulously at the way it sprang up when put in the microwave, admitting to me that he'd never seen that happen before. I had shaken my head at him despairingly, telling him he lived in some kind of make-believe world. I may have had a point. He _is_ my ultimate fantasy, I suppose.

It was about halfway through the film, after the second time I had nearly toppled out of my seat while trying to hand him the popcorn that Jasper huffed in exasperation.

"For God's sake, Alice, why don't you just come and sit next to me, rather than pulling a muscle every time one of us wants the snacks?" There was a teasing light in his eyes as he said it, so I knew he wasn't really frustrated. I could've refused, but the idea of sitting so close to Jasper was beyond appealing. Hesitantly, I got up from my chair and moved to sit beside him, wedging the popcorn into the gap between us.

Honestly, Diary, it was like there was suddenly an electric current running over my skin. I couldn't think straight. All I knew was that I was excruciatingly aware of Jasper – the heat of him, the faint scent of his cologne, his every tiniest movement. I wasn't looking at him, deliberately so, but I could still feel his presence beside me like a magnet. My fingers burned with the desire to touch him, and I nearly succumbed. It was only by crossing my arms tightly and trapping my fingers to my sides that I managed to resist.

I didn't dare sneak a glance to be sure, but I felt as though Jasper was watching me instead of Humphrey Bogart. His gaze was tangible, and it made my pulse race so fast that the only noise I could concentrate on was the whooshing in my ears.

"So," Jasper pulled me out of my reverie. His voice sounded perfectly casual, if a little deeper than normal. "Who would you choose?"

"Huh?" Well done, Alice. Sound like more of a brainless moron.

"Rick or Lazlo? Would you have gotten on the plane?"

I twisted my head to gawp at him incredulously. "I thought you said you hadn't seen it! How do you know that she gets on a plane, we're only halfway through?"

Jasper grinned sheepishly. "I never said I hadn't seen it."

"You implied it."

"Did not."

"Did too!" I shook my head, laughing. "You've seen Casablanca. I'm impressed."

"It's a great movie. It's no Shawshank Redemption, but…"

"I have that one, too."

"Can we watch it after?" Jasper's eyes lit up. I stared at him, absurdly pleased by his willingness to hang out with me. Man, I really have got it bad.

"You want to stick around here?"

"Yeah… uh, I mean, if that's cool with you…?"

I nodded. "Actually, yeah. I'm having fun."

Jasper gave me another one of his unreadable looks, but it gave way to an expression that was part wistfulness, part sadness, and all emotion. "Me, too. The most fun I've had in ages. It's almost as if my father hasn't just been arrested."

My heart tugged painfully for him. "He'll get out…"

"He's already on bail, and the lawyers will get him off. But…"

"But what?" I leaned closer to him over the popcorn bowl, entrapped by whatever was smoldering like blue fire behind his eyes.

"I kind of wish that he wouldn't." He let out all his breath in one go. "It's just that he never changes. He promises he will, but he doesn't, and I'm sick of watching him wreck all our lives because he's selfish, and impulsive, and…" Jasper stopped, wincing. "You probably think I'm a total dick. What sort of son wants his father to rot in jail?"

"What sort of father wrecks his son's life over money?" I answered, and Jasper gave me a tight smile. "What does your mom say?"

"Mom is totally fixated on getting Dad off. She doesn't even realize what he's doing to us, I don't think. Or else she won't acknowledge it. She and Maria are two of a kind, with that whole burying their heads in the sand mentality they have going on. If she wants to be that way, it's fine, but…"

Jasper paused, seeming to teeter on the precipice of telling me something important. I waited, feigning patience, as he swallowed thickly and came to his decision as to whether or not to spill the beans.

"My mom gave me my Grandma's ring," he blurted. "For me to give to Maria."

My stomach lurched, and I struggled to keep my voice neutral. "And do you want to ask her to marry you?"

Jasper looked aghast. "God, no! I'm only eighteen, Alice, and only by a month at that! I'm way too young to get married, and even if I wasn't, Maria isn't the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with."

"Then what is she?" I tried not to smile as I said it.

"My high school girlfriend," he responded immediately. "I think I might have loved her at some point, but that's so far in the past now, I can't be sure. I feel like a bastard for even saying this, but I'm with her because it's what my parents want. They've been telling me for months to keep Maria sweet so that my father can close this business deal. Once it became clear that his money issues were going to bite him in the ass, my dad started talking to me about proposing to Maria. My mom jumped on the idea instantly, and they've been hounding me ever since."

"Tell them no," I said, a little too bluntly.

"It's not that simple," Jasper responded with a sigh.

"How do you know that you don't love her anymore?" I asked, trying a different tack. The idea that he'd loved her, even if it was past tense, didn't sit well with me.

"Because I… I don't feel _anything_. When I'm with her, I just feel… numb."

"Numb?" I tried to imagine feeling that way around someone I used to find attractive. Truthfully, the only person who could have ever fit that bill was Jasper, and I felt anything but numb around him. I felt like every nerve ending in my body was exposed.

"Yeah. I don't want to live my life like I'm on Novocain."

We regarded each other for a long time, brown eyes staring into blue, until eventually we turned back to watch the film. It was almost done, I realized with a start. How long had I been staring at Jasper?

"Rick," I said abruptly.

"Sorry?"

"You asked who I'd choose, if I were her. I'd choose Rick over Lazlo."

"How come?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"Because," I began without thinking, "She loves him. He's the one that makes her feel. He inspires her passion, and lust, and pain, and anger, and…" I trailed off, blushing slightly.

"You wouldn't want the emotional Novocain?"

"I guess that's what I'm saying."

"So, then, you understand where I'm coming from… about Maria?" He gazed hopefully at me through his long lashes, looking so beautiful that my breath caught in my chest.

"Not exactly. If my dad told me to marry someone I didn't love, I wouldn't waste my time even entertaining the idea. I'd tell him to go fuck himself."

Jasper smirked. "In those words?"

"In those exact words."

He pressed his lips together in a thin line, and the tension between us suddenly crackled again. My breath hitched as he leaned closer, almost like he was gonna…

"Alice, I…"

We both jumped guiltily as the front door opened with a bang, and in sauntered my father. He was carrying a large canvas under one arm, and apparently oblivious to the sight of a strange boy on his sofa.

"Ali, honey, you in? Cynthia's at Lauren's house tonight, so I thought we could order take out from the Thai place you like and…" He finally spotted Jasper, and his eyebrows went up in astonishment. "Oh. Sorry. I didn't realize you had company."

"Dad," I said, feeling inexplicably nervous. "This is Jasper. Jasper, this is my dad, Logan."

"Pleasure," Dad extended one hand to Jasper over the back of the couch. Jasper took it.

"Likewise, sir." They shook.

Jasper left pretty soon after that, with the caveat that he would come back tomorrow night. I couldn't help but be a little pissed off at my dad for walking in. What might have happened otherwise…?

I guess we'll never know.

Talk more tomorrow,

Alice.

* * *

**A/N: I'm going to start another fic, a companion to this one, called The Manhattan Journals. This will be the same story, but from Jasper's perspective, and it will fill in a lot of blanks that Alice's account can't cover. I can't start it until a specific point in this version of events, to avoid it being spoilery, but it will be up soon. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**PJ**

**x**


	6. February 13th

**February 13****th**

Dear Diary,

I'm going to tell you about the first time I ever spoke to Jasper Whitlock. He probably doesn't even remember it, but I do. It's been etched onto my subconscious for two and a half years.

I was fourteen, and I think he'd just turned sixteen, or was just about to, because I remember a lot of gossip had been floating around about the richest boy in school's birthday party. Apparently, it was _the_ event, but I was none the wiser. It wasn't like freaky emo Alice was worth wasting an invitation on.

It was my freshman year at Constance, and I'd been going through the phase when I had a dyed pink stripe through my hair. It was also my Doc Marten phase (although that one never really left me, I still love my stomp-all-over-your-face boots). School was just getting out, and I'd doubled back because I realized that I'd left my cell phone in my locker – seriously, who does that? – and I'd spied him standing over by the steps, checking his texts or something, and wearing that green scarf that made his eyes look super blue.

I'd had a planet sized crush on him since the second I'd laid eyes on him, but of course, I didn't ever have the nerve to approach him. He was popular, and rich, and off-the-charts handsome, and though I liked to think I was so much better than the mindless drones who overpopulated my school, I still felt like he was way out of my league for even mere conversation.

I'd drawn so close to him that I could actually smell his citrusy cologne, fully intending to just brush past, when he turned unexpectedly and I felt my head slam into his chest. All the books I'd been holding tumbled out of my arms, scattering across the sidewalk, and I remember yelling something fairly obscene as a reflex.

I'd dropped to my knees and was starting to gather it up when I saw his hands scooping up some stray papers and my dog-eared copy of Nietzsche. He reached over to hand them to me, and our eyes met.

He seemed totally taken aback – by the blatant 'I don't belong here' sign I practically wore around my neck, no doubt – but he was unswervingly polite when he said, "Oh, shit, I'm sorry."

"No," I allowed. "It's my fault; I'm such a klutz…"

We both straightened up, and he was smirking down at me. I craned my neck up to see his face – he'd been tall even then.

"Well, it is obvious why I didn't see you – you're tiny. How you missed me, on the other hand…?" he sounded like he was trying not to laugh, and, pathetic as I was, I swooned a little. On the inside, obviously.

I felt a blush on my cheeks. "I… uh… well, I was away with the fairies, I guess." I cringed as I said it. It was something Grams always used to say, but saying it to Jasper just suddenly sounded beyond lame.

He chuckled at me, low and throaty, and my heart jumped in my chest. "Relatives of yours, the fairies?"

I narrowed my gaze. "Is that a height joke?"

"It might be." His indigo eyes glittered with amusement. "I didn't introduce myself, did I? I'm Jasper Whitlock."

I smiled. Rather than indulging in my ridiculous fantasy where he would sweep me off my feet and carry me away into the sunset, I decided to play it cool, Brooklyn-style. "Nice to meet you."

He waited, but I didn't offer my own introduction. "Do you have a name?"

"I have three, actually."

Jasper smiled. "Care to venture one?"

"Alice," I responded. "Alice Brandon."

"Nice hair, Alice Brandon," he said, lips twisting into that delicious smirk again. Even though I was fairly sure he was being sarcastic, it still felt amazing, having him look me up and down like that.

"I can't really afford to get mine professionally coiffed like you."

He raised his eyebrows with a grin. "Stereotyping, much?"

I shrugged. "Not really."

"So, what's the pink supposed to symbolize? Blowing off all of the normal Constance trends?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Alice Brandon: too cool for school?"

"Not exactly. I'm just not into that whole preppy thing."

Except on Jasper. But then, I bet he'd look good wearing a garbage bag.

He tilted his head, pushing a few strands of golden hair out of his eyes. "So, what are you into? Angry punk rock and guys with multiple facial piercings?"

"Now who's stereotyping?" I pointed out coolly. "Maybe I just want something to set me apart, that way I don't have to carry that neon sign that says 'defensive scholarship kid' on my back all day."

He laughed at that. "Yeah, I hear those things are heavy."

Just then, Edward had appeared, looking red-faced and out of breath, clutching his cell phone triumphantly in his aloft fist. "Jazz, I got it, we can go!"

Jasper's gaze flickered to Edward before landing on me again. "Okay. See you around, Alice."

And they'd left, just like that. I'd waited until he was out of sight to break into my nerdy victory dance.

* * *

It was strange now, thinking back on that. Jasper had been over at my house to watch movies twice now, had split a plate of hot wings with me at Rafiki's on Friday afternoon, and had let me drag him around an art gallery in SoHo on Sunday morning. It was like we were actually friends – although I didn't harbor an all-consuming desire for any of my other friends, granted – and he'd even braved school yesterday.

We seem to have made this unspoken agreement not to mention the fact that we've been hanging out to anyone. I don't know when it was decided, but both of us are on board with the plan. If I'm honest, I like it. It's like having a piece of Jasper that was all mine.

The gossip had bounced off Jasper like water off a duck's feathers, and within half an hour, the scandal seemed to be forgotten about. He was sitting at his usual table, surrounded by his usual cronies, when Rosalie, Bella and I claimed our usual picnic bench. I felt my stomach flutter as Jasper shot me a conspiratorial wink when he caught me eyeballing him.

"Hello? Alice! Earth to Alice!" Rosalie waved one hand impatiently in front of my nose, trying to attract my attention. I jumped guiltily in my seat, willing my face not to betray me by blushing. "When you're back from La-La Land, maybe you could answer my question?"

"Oh," I tore my gaze away from Jasper somewhat reluctantly. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was asking what kind of mask you're wearing to the Kiss on the Lips party."

I glanced from her eager face to Bella's. "Uh… well… I'm not going."

"You have to go!" Rose protested loudly. "We've got to go as a team."

"It would suck a lot less if you were there," Bella interjected, giving me a small smile.

I chewed that over for a moment in silence. The annual Kiss on the Lips party was, like a lot of Upper East parties, a masquerade ball. I could go, and I wouldn't have to worry about running into people that I didn't really want to see, because nobody would recognize me.

"I suppose I could, if you really want me to," I sighed. "You guys aren't bringing dates, right?"

"No," Bella assured me quickly. "Of course not."

Rosalie nodded emphatically. "Who needs men? We can go stag, and we'll probably have way more fun anyway."

"It's a Valentine's ball," I said. "Are you sure?"

"Totally," Bella responded. "I'd rather hang out with you girls, anyway."

"You're going, Ali," Rose decided. "And that's that."

And that was the final word on the matter.

* * *

I was on my way out of English class when I was seized by the elbow and tugged around the corner. Trying not to scream, or trip over my feet, or do anything else remotely overdramatic, I allowed myself to be pulled backwards until I was safely tucked into an alcove, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the student body.

I turned to face my assailant, and my heart lurched into my throat as I realized who it was that was crammed into the confined space with me.

Maria de Lucia.

Up close, Jasper's girlfriend was annoyingly pretty. She was every girl's worst nightmare – smooth golden skin, flawless features, and huge, strikingly gray eyes. Her hair was arranged in loose, artful curls around her face. And she was glaring. Directly at me.

"Um, can I help you?" I said, trying to keep my expression neutral.

"Actually, yeah, you can." She took a step forwards, no small feat considering that the two of us were in an already confined space. "You can tell my why my boyfriend is spending his time in SoHo art galleries instead of with me."

My blood turned to ice in my veins. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh," she replied, her red-painted lip curling. "I think you do."

She thrust something under my nose, and it took me a few seconds to refocus my gaze enough to see what it was. When I did, I realized that it was her cell phone. Or, more accurately, a picture on her cell phone. A picture of Jasper, laughing at an imitation Mayan statue with a girl. She was grinning up at him, throwing her long, black hair out of her face, clearly besotted. It took me a second to remember that the girl was actually me.

"Yeah, so he ran into me at an art gallery," I huffed impatiently. "So what?"

"So…" she snarled, digging her manicured nails into my arm. "He was supposed to be at my mom's brunch. With me. Not hanging around with bargain-bucket Brandon. Do you honestly think that you can steal him away from me?"

"I'm not trying to _steal_ anything," I spat, wrenching my arm from her grip. I winced as her nails sliced me. "Jasper's a person, Maria. He's not your property. And he's allowed to have friends."

"And the way you look at him? As if you only want to be his friend!"

She had a point, but there was no way that I was going to admit to that.

"It doesn't matter what I think, Maria. Shouldn't you be having this conversation with Jasper, if you think that there's something going on?"

"Please! I don't think he'd be stupid enough to get involved with you! If he was going to cheat on me, you wouldn't even make the list of people he could choose from! However…" She leaned in close to whisper in my ear. "Keep your peon paws off my boyfriend, or I swear to God, I will make your life a living hell. And not just for you. Your mousy little gal-pal Bella and our resident convent-convert Rose will be next. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," I replied with a mouth like sandpaper.

"Good. I'm glad we understand each other."

And she just flounced away from me, casual as you like, leaving me with nothing but the bitter taste of bile in my mouth to confirm that we'd ever even had the conversation in the first place.

* * *

If Maria thought her threat would actually be worth anything to me, she was crazy. I found myself reluctantly shopping with Rosalie at some downtown boutiques, while she oohhed and aahhed over things that I couldn't even dream of affording. She insisted on buying me my outfit for the party – a black and white dress with asymmetric patterns cut into the silky material, and a diamonte encrusted black mask.

I admired myself in the mirror back at home after we'd said our goodbyes. I had to hand it to her – she had taste. I didn't even look like myself. The material of the dress clung to curves I didn't even knew I had, making me look much more womanly than I usually did. I experimented with my hair for an hour or so, Cynthia making helpful suggestions along the way, until I decided that it looked best down and curly.

I don't want to admit it, diary, but I'm actually looking forward to this party tomorrow. Honestly. Part of me is kind of embarrassingly psyched to actually be going to an Upper East Side event, and not alone, to boot. Another part of me really wants to see Jasper while I'm wearing the dress, because then, just maybe, he might look at me at least a little like I look at him. Possibly.

I'm starting to think that I imagined the whole almost-kiss thing. We've been hanging out pretty much every day for a week, and there hasn't even been an inkling of a repeat performance, much to my disappointment. I think I may just have to face the fact that he isn't interested in me like that at all.

I was still twirling this way and that, examining myself from all angles, when a knock on my door made me jump. I tore my gaze away from my reflection just as Cynthia leaped off my bed, raced to the front room and threw the door open wide.

"Oh, hi!" she squeaked.

"You're not Alice."

I froze when I recognized the voice.

Jasper.

What was he doing here? I was still preening and parading around in my party outfit! I cast about my room for my dressing gown, managing to seize it and wrap it around myself just before his honey-blond head poked through my doorway.

"Alice?"

"Um, hey."

Jasper sidled into the room, the portrait of ease in all of his preppy Greek-godlikeness. He leant up against my doorframe, blue eyes gleaming with interest as they took inventory of my bedroom. I wondered what he was seeing that was keeping him so interested. The stack of novels that doubled as a nightstand? My paint-splattered easel? My battered sewing machine? The Blondie poster tacked to the wall? Cedric, my cabbage patch kid?

His eyes finally landed on me, and they widened slightly.

"Going somewhere?"

I glanced down at my lavender and white polka dot robe. "I'm a little underdressed if I am."

He gestured towards me with an open palm. "I meant your hair, and the makeup."

"Too much?" I teased with a grin.

He smiled, shifting his gaze away abruptly. "No, I… you look… nice."

I raised both eyebrows. "You charm me so, Whitlock, with your lukewarm compliments."

He laughed. "Sorry. I meant you look great. Really."

I beamed at him. "Naturally. So what's on the itinerary for the whistle-stop tour of Brooklyn tonight?"

"I don't know, doll face, whatever works for ya." His attempt at a Brooklyn drawl made me chuckle.

"Well, my friend Seth is playing a gig at this local bar."

Jasper's nose wrinkled. "Is he any good?"

"Edward likes his stuff."

"There's no accounting for Edward's taste," Jasper argued good-naturedly. "He likes to drink scotch and soda."

"Is that a crime?" I was amused by the amount of affront in his tone.

Jasper's right eyebrow winged upwards. "Spoken like a girl who knows nothing about scotch."

"You've got me there. I'm not the type to sit there sipping Glenmorangie with the hoi polloi."

"I'd never have guessed," he replied dryly. "I'll wait out here while you get changed."

Jasper and I headed to the gig together, laughing and joking the whole way. Actually, we were laughing and joking the whole night. I couldn't help wishing, though, as we jumped around in the crowd of fans that had turned out for the gig, that each brush of his arm against mine wasn't just accidental, but as carefully orchestrated as every one of my hand grazes or shoulder bumps.

We didn't see Seth after the gig. He had vanished in a swarm of fan girls, and was probably having the time of his life. I grinned ruefully as I spotted Paul sneaking backstage with a girl who looked suspiciously like Rachel Black.

Jasper walked me home. Our conversation remained perfectly casual until it turned to the topic of tomorrow night's party.

"So, are you going to Kiss on the Lips?" Jasper asked, as we passed a boarded up bodega.

"Rosalie is dragging me," I replied with a theatrical shudder. "She bought me an outfit today so that I couldn't get out of it."

"Good," Jasper said decisively. When I raised my eyebrows, he elaborated. "I mean, I know we're not really talking much at school, 'cause of Maria, but tomorrow is a masquerade ball."

"The masks come off at midnight," I reminded him.

"I think I can get a dance in on the sly before then," he teased, a spark of something flaring behind his irises that sent a shiver right down my spine.

"Well, how will I know who to look for?" I said, hoping my voice didn't betray my sudden nervous excitement. "You'll be in disguise."

"Look for the guy in the phantom mask," he advised. "Because he'll be looking for you."

I swallowed thickly. "He will?"

"Yup. How else would he manage to endure an Upper East Side party without the one person who can make things interesting?"

We were at my door by the time he said this, and he turned to me with one sweeping movement, catching my hand in one of his and twirling me artfully, like the beginning of a waltz. As I stopped spinning, I froze, waiting, my heart pounding frantically against my ribcage.

"Jasper…"

"You know, Alice," he spoke over me. "I don't know if you remember, but the first time we met, you had chip on your shoulder and a pink stripe in your hair."

I jumped, surprised by his easy recollection of one of my most treasured memories.

"Yeah, and as I recall, I got a lot of hassle for the pink hair, freshman year. No wonder I grew it out."

Jasper looked thoughtful. "Everyone did give you a hard time. I remember, though, looking at you and thinking that, for a girl who wore nothing but black, you had to be one of the most colorful people I'd ever met. Everyone else at school is so… beige. But you…"

He sighed, and I swear, my heart did, too.

"But I?" I prompted, when he didn't finish his sentence.

"You're a shot of life, Alice Brandon."

On that confounding note, he raised my hand to his lips, brushed a kiss across my knuckles, and melted into the night.

And I haven't been able to make my legs stop trembling until just now.

Tomorrow is Kiss on the Lips.

I hope I mean that literally.

Love,

Alice

* * *

_**A/N - **_**The Kiss on the Lips party is going to be a big event, in a lot of senses. We're also going to get a glimpse of a character who I have been hitherto hiding away. It's all going down on Valentine's day! **

**Stay tuned!**

**PJ **

**x**


	7. February 14th

**A/N – Forewarning – this story does touch on some fairly traumatic things. Other traumatic things, it doesn't just touch on, but bulldozes into at a hundred miles an hour. Read on, but don't say I didn't tell ya ;).**

* * *

**February 14th**

Dear Diary,

Tonight has been both the best and worst night of my life.

I won't even bother going into what happened at school. It was boring and uneventful – with the exception of Maria's hawk eyes being trained on my every move. I'm actually kind of flattered that she's so threatened by me.

Oh, wait. One interesting thing happened at school. I saw Bella waiting by her locker for me to meet her, and I was about to head over, when I spotted Edward squaring his shoulders to walk straight up to her. My curiosity piqued, I melted into the crowd to watch what would happen next.

Edward, bless his heart, looked both heartbreakingly handsome and totally nauseous as he tapped her on the shoulder.

Bella turned, and her eyes widened as she realized who it was standing behind her. Edward was swaying slightly on the spot from nerves, his arms clasped tightly behind his back.

"Bella," he said, and then said nothing else.

"What's up, Edward?" Unfalteringly nice, as always, Bella slid the last of her books into place on her locker shelf and leaned against the door until it closed, blinking up at him curiously.

"I…" he ran one hand through his hair. "I… I just… wondered… are you going to the Kiss on the Lips thing tonight?"

"Yeah, I am." Bella brightened. Bless her little cotton socks, she was so oblivious. "Are you?"

"I… uh… yeah, I am, I guess. Are… are you going with someone?"

"Just Rosalie and Alice." She shrugged. "We're all going together. Do you want to come with?"

Edward and I both cringed. She had no idea she'd put her foot in it, but there it was.

I expected Edward to back out and head away with his tail between his legs, which is why I was surprised when he squared his shoulders again and dragged his fingers through his hair a second time.

"Actually, Bella, I was… um… wondering if you would maybe want to go… with me?"

"Yeah," she replied cheerfully. "That's what I was saying, silly! You can get the limo with us from Rose's…"

I clapped my palm to my face.

"I don't think so. See, what I was really asking was… whether _you_ wanted to go with me. Just you. And me, obviously."

Bella's eyes went like saucers, and her mouth dropped open. "What? Do you mean like… on a date? Be your Valentine?"

Edward blushed. Then he grinned. "That's kind of what I was getting at, yeah."

"But…" Bella protested. "Why?"

Suddenly Edward was all confidence. "Because I've been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out ever since I got delegated to be your tour guide. And today seemed like the kind of opportunity I don't think I'll get again. I know it's late notice, and I know you probably don't…"

"Yes!" Bella exclaimed loudly. Several passers-by turned their heads to stare at her. She blushed crimson and hastily lowered her voice. "I mean, I'd love to. I mean, it would be great. Uh…"

"So, shall I pick you up?" Edward asked with a shit-eating grin. I rolled my eyes and smiled to myself, deciding on the spur of the moment to just carry on walking and let them have their moment.

* * *

As it transpired, by the time I showed up at Rose's with all of my stuff, ready to beautify, it turned out that I was the only one flying solo. As Vera, the maid, showed me into the sitting room, the first thing I noticed was a guy sitting on the sofa, dressed like Zorro and built like a tank. When I faltered, he grinned, showing two deep dimples that made him look bizarrely angelic for his bulk, and plucked the mask from his eyes. They were an arresting greeny-gray color.

"Oh, uh, hi…"

"You must be the pixie," he boomed with a grin. He leapt to his feet with a grace that should not have been possible with his bulk and stretched out one massive hand to me. "Alice, right? I've heard so much about you, I feel like I know you already."

"That's great," I said lamely, as he enveloped my hand in his and shook it surprisingly gently. "And you are…?"

He waggled his eyebrows and raised his mask back up to his eyes, fastening it in place. "Whoever you want me to be, Tinkerbelle."

"Emmett!" Edward's exasperated sigh drifted through the room from the foyer doorway, and I turned to find him propped against the frame, looking very debonair in a tux and loosely holding a glass of champagne. "Leave the poor girl alone. Alice, this is my brother, Emmett Cullen."

I gaped at him in unflattering disbelief. "Your _brother_?"

I mean, Edward is a looker and all, but he's pretty slight, and Emmett looks like what Superman might have looked like if he'd worked out more. Emmett chuckled.

"It's clear that we're adopted, right?" he said with a lofty grin. "I mean, nobody would believe that I'm biologically related to that toothpick."

Edward scowled as I laughed. I liked Emmett already.

"I don't mean this to sound rude or anything, but…"

"Why am I here when I'm meant to be cooling my heels at the Ostroff center?" Emmett completed for me. He shrugged. "Rosie decided to spring me for the night. Let's call it time off for good behavior."

I nodded.

He tilted his head, fixing his greeny-gray eyes on me with evident curiosity. "C'mon, small fry, is that the best you've got? You aren't even going to ask me what I did to end up in Ostroff? I'm disappointed."

I grinned, accepting the challenge. "Alright, I'll bite. What did you do?"

"Emmett…" Edward warned. "I don't think you really need to…"

He waved his little brother away airily. "Relax, bro. To answer your question, Alice, I may have marched my seventeen year old ass into a bar and proceeded to drink its entire contents for two years straight. Happy to say, though, that I am officially six months sober."

"Isn't a party with a lot of alcohol kind of heavy for a recovering alcoholic?" I pointed out, with my characteristic lack of a verbal filter. Edward winced, but Emmett let out a guffaw of laughter.

"Oh, I like you," he declared. "Yeah, it would be, I guess, if Rose wasn't keeping tabs on me. She's changed her party-girl ways, and so can I."

Couldn't say fairer than that.

"So, are you, like, Rosalie's date tonight?"

Edward coughed, and Emmett looked suddenly uncomfortable for the first time since we'd started speaking. He scratched his chin awkwardly.

"Well… I wouldn't say that. I'm platonic arm candy."

The look in his eyes told an entirely different story, as did Edward's raised eyebrows, but I decided, for once, not to comment.

* * *

It took me an hour to get ready, with Bella painstakingly curling my hair as Rosalie applied my make-up with artistic precision. When I was done, we all took a moment to admire their handiwork. I looked incredible. Nothing like freaky Alice the art chick. No, I was Cinderella Noir, all dressed up and ready to go to the ball.

Bella was looking beautiful in midnight blue. Rosalie was out of this world in a form-fitting dress of crimson silk.

Edward and Emmett both seemed to be at a loss for words as their dates came down the stairs, and I couldn't help but feel a little wistful as we all piled into the limo, Edward snatching another bottle of champagne for the ride. We chattered noisily, sipped champagne and blasted party tunes down Fifth Avenue. It was the first time I could truly say that I felt like being a part of Manhattan's elite wouldn't be so bad after all.

The party looked unreal. The entire club was decorated in red drapes, twinkling lights and rotating strobes. It cast a simultaneously romantic and dramatic glow over everything. The bass from the speakers pulsed through me the second I entered the club, and now, with my face firmly disguised behind my mask, I allowed myself to get swallowed up in the crowd, watching Rosalie as she pulled Emmett onto the already packed dance floor, while Edward and Bella made a beeline for the bar.

I was scanning the crowd, but I was only searching for one person. The mere thought of him made my palms sweaty and my knees weak. Jasper in a tux – I think I might've died and gone to heaven. Unfortunately, I hadn't spotted him yet, and when I did, he would be with his actual date, no doubt.

Being the other woman, without actually collecting any of the benefits, really sucked sometimes.

I meandered through the people, unobtrusively observing as they all began to take on the effects of alcohol and hormones. Couples were making out all over the place – hardly fitting behavior for the society pages, I thought with a grin. I ducked behind what I thought was Tyler Crowley eating Lauren Mallory's face, and was halted by a tap on my shoulder.

I grinned, my heart leaping into my throat in anticipation. The grin slid quickly from my face when I turned and realized that I wasn't face-to-face with the guy of my dreams, like I'd expected, but rather, I was looking at a tall, lean guy in a red devil's mask with flyaway sandy brown hair.

He bent down low to be heard over the music as he spoke to me. "I never thought I'd see Alice Brandon at a social gathering."

"What makes you so sure I'm Alice Brandon?" I replied sweetly.

"Easy enough to notice you, Alice. I just looked for the most beautiful girl in the room, and here you are."

Even though I wasn't interested, I still colored at the compliment. "Uh, thanks."

"My pleasure. How about a dance?"

He held out one smooth hand to me, and I recognized the ring on his index finger. The devil mask suddenly made perfect sense. "A dance with the notorious James King? I don't think so."

James King, I should explain, is the resident bad boy of St. Jude's. His dad owns the Empire Hotel, as well as a large franchise, and his twenty two year old brother is the famed playboy billionaire heir, Royce King. He throws infamous 'lost weekends' every few months, where the boys of St. Jude's glut themselves on booze, drugs and gambling, then call it a night with a few girls for hire. He's a legend at school.

He's also Jasper's nemesis. Rumor has it, he took Maria's virginity. Unsurprising, because half the girls in my year at Constance could probably say the same.

I'd never expected him to even know I exist, and yet there he was, blatantly checking me out. I was just about to open my mouth to politely decline his advances, when I finally spotted Jasper out of the corner of my eye.

He looked every bit as inhumanly handsome as I'd thought he would. There was only one thing that ruined the image, and that was the fact that Maria was clinging to him for dear life, her arms around his neck and her lips brushing his ear as she whispered God-knows-what into it.

I balked as a wave of jealousy so acute that it left me breathless crashed over me. Hot tears sprung in my eyes, and I quickly turned my head before I saw too much. It was worse than torture. Way worse.

"Sure, James," I heard myself saying. "I'll dance with you."

And so I did. I danced with him until my feet ached and my body felt sticky from sweat. His arms were around me, and it wasn't the right set of arms, but I couldn't bear to think about Jasper without feeling the need to down a glass of something very alcoholic. Who had I been kidding? He'd never wanted me the same way I wanted him, and trying to pretend otherwise was just sad beyond all reason. I needed to forget my achy breaky heart.

So I drank. A lot.

I was feeling all woozy, and pleasantly careless, by the time James leaned in close and whispered in my ear, "There's a great view up on the roof."

Had I been of sound mind at that point, Diary, I would probably have said something snarky and taken my leave of him. But I wasn't, I was drunk, and acting correspondingly stupid, so instead, I tugged him towards me by his jacket lapels and began leading him towards the door that bore the sign 'roof access'.

I still don't know how it happened that we ended up kissing. I'd only ever kissed one other guy before – Seth, in an experiment when we were twelve – and kissing James was different to that. I still felt my heart squeeze painfully every time I thought of Jasper and Maria, and I found that the only way to make it hurt less was to kiss James harder, so I did.

It was when he hitched my dress up and hooked his fingers into my panties that my common sense penetrated my fog of inebriation, and I froze.

"What's the matter, Alice?" he murmured, his mouth hot and insistent against mine. He tasted like tequila and bad intentions. I firmly pulled his hands away.

"No, James, I can't…"

"This is a party, Alice. Loosen up." He placed his hands right back where they had been, and this time, I pushed him away harder.

"No!"

"Don't be so frigid. You came up here with me…"

"I didn't think you meant for this!" I struggled against his grip, but I was drunk, and he was stronger than I was. He barely budged an inch.

"You know who I am. Why else would I want you to come up here…?"

"James, stop!" He didn't. "Please!"

"You've been being such a little tease, come on, I know you want me to…"

"No!" I yelled. "Get _off_ me!"

My words came out slurred, and the hands I was using to push ineffectually against his chest had no grip in them. His warm weight crushed me to the roof, his tongue invading my mouth even as I twisted and choked and fought against him.

"Alice…"

"Stop it!"

"Just relax…"

Tears rolled down my cheeks. He wasn't going to quit, and this was actually going to happen. Stuff that you hear about, but would never believe could happen to you.

He was going to force me.

"No!" I half-sobbed. "James, stop! Stop!"

"Shut up!"

I hiccoughed as the scared tears flowed unchecked down my cheeks. My arms were pinned by my sides, and I couldn't even raise a hand to wipe them off.

Just then, when I felt my panties being lowered down my thighs, a voice cut through my tears. A beautiful, terrible voice, filled with an anger so paramount that it shook me to my core. Five words that sent a shiver down my spine and into my very bones.

"I think she said no."

James jerked his head up, and I got a clear view of my savior. I didn't need to look, though. I'd known who it was since he'd spoken.

Jasper.

His hands were balled into fists, and he was positively quaking with rage. Just then, I felt James's weight being wrenched off me, and heard him yelp as he was tossed unceremoniously onto the ground a foot away. I peered up to see Emmett Cullen blinking down at me, extending a mammoth hand to help me up.

"You okay, Tinkerbelle?" he asked in a low voice, averting his eyes as I righted my underwear and let him pull me to my feet.

"I'm fine," I replied a little shakily. "I'm okay."

Rosalie was standing just behind him, hair on end and eyes narrowed to stiletto daggers at James. "You're disgusting," she spat at him.

"Sticks and stones, Rose. We all know you've been out on one limb of my family tree, at least. Shall I send Royce your love?"

I'd never seen Rosalie lose face before, but she visibly grayed at his retort. Her eyes were suddenly shining with unshed tears, and there were no words for the amount of venomous hatred in her expression. "Fuck you."

"And he did, didn't he? Fuck you, that is. Over and over and over…"

He had pulled himself to his feet, just in time for Rose's hand to fly. Her aim was true, as she slapped him brutally across the face. His head ricocheted back, but he was laughing.

"Is that all you got, Princess? Royce did say you never put up much of a fight…"

Emmett started forwards with a snarl of rage, but he was overtaken by a blond and black blur as Jasper hurled himself into James and began punching every inch of him that he could reach. Blood spurted – from where, I wasn't sure – but Jasper was unrelenting. He continued to pound his face into mincemeat while Rose and Emmett stood by and watched with twin expressions of vicious satisfaction.

I intervened only when the blood started to pool. Catching Jasper by the elbow, I halted his fist before he could land another blow. He looked up at me, and the intensity of the anger and loathing in his eyes made me reel back a step. His face softened when he saw my reaction.

"Jasper, enough. Let's go."

With Emmett's help, I heaved Jasper to his feet, careful not to touch his now-ruined knuckles. His hands were a mess of blood and split skin, but they were nothing compared to the red pulp that was James's face. James raised his sleeve to wipe off the blood, and I saw that he was swollen in several areas. He probably had a broken nose, and his lip was painfully split in two. He still leered at me, though.

"You'll be begging for it soon enough, Alice…"

Rosalie aimed a kick at him, and he was still laughing as he doubled over.

"Don't you _ever_ touch her again!" she screamed. "Or I'll tell everyone what you did!"

Emmett towed Jasper away and down the stairs. Only Rose and I were left on the roof with James, and as we turned to go, he called after her.

"You think _you_ can get to me? Your life is over, slut! You're finished!"

Everyone stared as we made our way back through the party to the exit. At first, I thought it was because they would have heard the altercation on the roof, but it soon became clear that that wasn't the case. Maria, upon seeing Jasper, threw him a nasty look and stalked away. I didn't even have the time to wonder what that was about, because Lauren Mallory spoke to him, her shrill voice carrying even over the music.

"I think you should leave for now, Jasper. This is Maria's party, after all."

"With pleasure," he snarled savagely, and shocked the hell out of me by reaching behind him to close his fingers around mine. Gently, but leaving no room for argument, he marched us both to the door, with Rose and Emmett in tow. Whispers were echoing all around like a swarm of bees, but I barely noticed. I was dazed, and still sobering, and obeying nothing but the pressure of Jasper's hand on mine – the sweetest form of salvation I had ever earned.

* * *

The limo ride home was fairly silent. Rose and Emmett jumped out around the corner from me at the Ostroff – Edward and Bella had apparently taken the ride Edward had scored us long before the James debacle went down, so we were all riding in Jasper's car – which left me alone with Jasper. He hadn't said a word to me the whole journey, but he hadn't let go of my hand, either. I tried not to think about the connotations of his gesture in front of the entire student populace.

"Is anyone home at yours?" he asked me in a hoarse voice, as soon as the door had shut behind Emmett.

I didn't know why he was asking, and that must have been obvious on my face, because he half-rolled his eyes and said in a weary voice "I don't want you to sit alone after what happened at the party."

"My dad is upstate at some art show, and my sister is staying with my mom in Hudson this weekend," I told him in a small voice. He sighed.

"I'll stay with you. I can't leave you by yourself."

"Jasper…" I didn't want him to feel obligated, even though the idea of him staying at my apartment made me practically vibrate with joy. "You don't need to put yourself out…"

"I'm not. I want to. If you don't mind me being there," he told me, sincerity shining in his dark blue eyes. Instead of answering, I nodded mutely, and that was how the driver ended up dropping us off on the curb outside my building.

I let us both into the apartment, and began flicking on the lamps. When I turned back around, Jasper had divested himself of his jacket and was sitting on the loveseat, rolling up his sleeves, wincing as the movement sent pain shooting through his battered hands. I dithered for a moment before heading into the kitchen to grab an ice pack out of the freezer. Wrapping it in a cloth, I came back to the sofa.

I kicked off my shoes and knelt down in front of Jasper, gently taking his wrists and laying them out across his lap so that I could rest the ice pack on top of his severely bruised knuckles. He winced again, shut his eyes and then moaned slightly in relief as the cold began to work its magic. Still on my knees, I blinked up at him.

He was covered in flecks of blood – no doubt from breaking James's nose – and looked as drained as I'd ever seen him, and yet I don't think I'd ever truly appreciated how perfect he was. The honey blond of his unruly hair, the fullness of his lips, the hard lines of his jaw, the curve of his tanned throat…

I wished I had my sketchbook. It would be the next best thing to touching him, and I didn't dare to do that.

Suddenly, his eyes were open and staring into mine. I swallowed loudly.

"Alice, are you alright?" The urgency in his tone made me shiver.

"I'm okay, thanks to you," I said, and I meant it. I owed him more than words to describe. I owed him my dignity. Hell, I owed him my virginity. Okay, I didn't mean to put it like that, but it's not like I wouldn't happily give it to him if he asked…

_Don't go there, Alice, _I chided myself.

"I should've gotten there sooner," Jasper whispered, sounding grieved. "He was already all over you, and I was too busy dealing with all that Maria shit to…" He swore under his breath.

"What Maria shit? What happened?" Could it actually be what I was praying it was? No, that would be too good to be true…

"I ended it with her. Told her that it wasn't fair to keep pretending. Not to either of us. She got really mad and screamed at me in front of everyone. There was a massive scene, but at least I can give my dad back the ring and tell him to go fuck himself."

I grinned, feeling utterly weightless with bliss at this new revelation. "In those words?"

He smiled, too, remembering, as I was, our conversation a week ago. "In exactly those words."

"I'm glad you're out from underneath that conniving bitch."

"Me, too. Alice…" he leaned forwards, his face unexpectedly close to mine, his eyes heart-meltingly intense. "As soon as the drama was over, you were the only person I wanted to tell. I looked for you everywhere, until Irina Denali told me that you'd gone up to the roof with James King. I got there as fast as I could…"

"You got there in time," I consoled him. Feeling brave, I reached over to pat him on the forearm. Quick as a flash, he caught my hand in one of his injured ones and pressed it to his arm, keeping our skin in contact. Tingles of electricity flowed from the places where our skin was touching.

"You don't know how badly I wanted to kill him."

"He's a bastard. Who knows how many girls he's…?"

"No. Alice, it wasn't about that. I could lie and say that it was, say that I was just being a good person, playing the hero, but the truth is that I wanted to rip him limb from limb for even _thinking_ about touching you." He ducked his head and looked up at me through his lashes, with that expression that always made me forget to breathe. "And I'd have felt the same even if you'd wanted him to."

My brow furrowed, not comprehending. "But…"

"Alice." He let my hand go, only to bring his up to rest lightly on my cheek. "_Alice_. I felt sick. Physically sick at the idea of him, of anyone, touching you, kissing you… I've never felt so angry in my life. I know it's not fair, and I know you didn't lead me on in feeling like this, and this is probably the last thing you want to hear on a night like tonight, but I have to tell you now or I never will. The reason I hate the idea so much is because I don't want you to kiss anyone unless you're kissing _me_."

I'm pretty sure my chin was on the ground by this point. "Jasper…"

"I'm not asking for anything, Alice. I just wanted you to know. I've wanted to kiss you since my sophomore year – the day I knocked all those books out of your hands outside of school. The first day I laid eyes on you."

His eyes were blue fire, scorching my soul as his words carved themselves indelibly onto my heart.

I picked up the ice pack from Jasper's hands, carefully, and set it down on the table.

I gently shuffled closer, resting my hands on his knees.

My eyes held his, steadily, as I tilted my head up. Then I shut them.

Just as his lips connected with mine.

And then, like I'd dreamed almost daily since the first time I saw him, I was caught up in his arms, one of his hands in my hair, the other pressing me to him as his tongue explored my mouth slowly, languidly, and my heart beat so hard I thought it was going to break out of my chest.

If I'd died right then, I would have been happy.

Because I was making out with Jasper Whitlock.

And what's more, he was kissing me back even harder.

Love, love, love, love, love,

Alice.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**PJ**

**x**


	8. February 15th

_**A/N – I can only apologize for the astronomically long wait between this chapter and the last. I was hit with some major writers block, but I think I'm over it now, so the chapters should keep coming quickly from hereon out. **_

_**A huge shout out to all the reviewers who have carried on reviewing and telling me how they're desperate for an update – you guys really helped me break the block, so thank you thank you thank you! **_

_**And so we continue…**_

* * *

**February 15th**

Dear Diary,

So, this morning, when I woke up, it was with a massive grin on my face. After the events of last night, I should've been surprised that I was in such a good mood, right? It took me a second to realize why.

Then Jasper's voice drifted through from the living room.

"So, you're selling it?"

My face flooded with warmth. Jasper had stayed at my house. He'd been asleep on my sofa. He'd rescued me like an old-timey knight in shining armor.

He'd kissed me!

Unable to contain my joy any longer, I tossed my bedcovers back and swung my legs over the edge of the mattress. I all but ran out of my bedroom door, but stopped, thoroughly confused when I registered the scene that was waiting for me on the sofa.

Jasper was there, but he wasn't alone. He was stretched out on one of the recliners hugging a plate of waffles to his chest and attacking it with a fork, and opposite him sat… my dad.

They were laughing, and joking, and seemed utterly, totally relaxed around each other. I felt like I'd just stepped into the Twilight Zone.

"I thought that I'd take it down to the gallery later this afternoon. It's a good piece, don't you think?" Dad said brightly.

Jasper cocked his blond head at the canvas. I wondered which painting it was – it was facing away from me, so I couldn't be sure. I watched, unnoticed, as his cobalt gaze raked over each detail painted there. He bit his lip, thinking.

I couldn't stop staring at his mouth, preoccupied with the memory of the feel of it on my own.

"I like it," Jasper decided. "It's really abstract. It could mean anything."

"I think that's the point," Dad shrugged.

"Who's the artist?"

"She lives in Hudson. Really special." There was something in my dad's tone that made me think that the artist wasn't just any artist. My stomach began to clench as a familiar, hollow ache took me over.

I suddenly didn't want to hear any more. Father-boyfriend bonding be damned.

Although, could I really call Jasper my boyfriend?

"Morning!" I announced, making them both jump. I fixed a breezy smile onto my face and sidled across the room to sink onto the only available seat – next to my dad and directly opposite Jasper.

Dad beamed at me, and Jasper's eyes raked over my tank top and tiny shorts. I swallowed thickly as his gaze met mine – he looked like he wanted to eat me alive.

I was up for that.

"Hey, kiddo!" Dad leaned across the couch to give me a one-armed hug. I patted his elbow clumsily, praying that he couldn't feel how hard my heart was beating as I looked at Jasper. That would only invite questions, and I wasn't really prepared to answer them. Not yet, anyway.

"Good morning, Alice," Jasper said, once my dad had let me go. His voice was lower and more heated than should have been legal, and I suppressed a shiver of longing. My eyes darted to my dad, who had just picked up a copy of Rolling Stone from the coffee table, and was thankfully oblivious to the sheer saturation of teenage hormones in the room.

"Jasper and I were just having breakfast," he said absently, flicking a page of his magazine. "There's some there for you in the kitchen, if you want it."

"Thanks," I replied. My voice came out all hoarse – my mouth was dry.

Desperate for something else to do, and feeling increasingly fidgety under Jasper's unrelenting gaze, I stood.

Let me tell you, Diary, that it is very hard to walk away from someone you want to launch yourself at. Especially when you can feel his eyes burning a hole into your back as you're going.

I got to the kitchen and started spooning fruit onto the plate of waffles set aside for me. My hands were shaking like crazy. I had wondered when I woke up whether it would be easier to be around Jasper now that he seemed less like a fantasy and more like a reality. I thought it might take away some of his shine. I was wrong, if the fire coursing through my veins as I fixed my breakfast was any indication. It had only gotten worse.

"Alice?"

I jumped, giving a small yip of surprise, and spilled strawberries all over the counter. Jasper had snuck up on me, and when I spun around I found us barely a foot apart. Jasper propped his elbows against the counter behind him to study me. Smirking, as usual. He wore that damn smirk as well as he wore his slightly rumpled dress shirt and black slacks.

I tried so hard to play it cool. "You and my dad have breakfast together, now?"

"He made waffles." A shrug. "I'm not going to turn down waffles. Especially not when they're cooked by the father of the girl I…" He trailed off, and his eyes flickered to where my dad was still sat on the couch. Studiously ignoring us.

I took a tentative step closer. "The girl you…?"

Instead of answering, Jasper just gave me an enigmatic smile and reached over to tuck a lock of my black hair behind my ear. I shivered from head to toe as his fingertips grazed my cheek.

"I have a brunch to get to," he told me mournfully. I must've looked as crestfallen as I felt, because he grinned. "Don't pout, Ali. I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to come with me."

"Come… with you?" I tested the words, barely able to believe them. It wasn't surprising, really – it's not as though I got invited to Upper East brunches every day.

Jasper looked amused. "Uh-huh."

"But…" I searched around for words that had deserted me. "Won't Maria be there?"

"Probably." He shrugged, totally unconcerned with the idea. He clearly hadn't heard the phrase 'no wrath like a woman scorned'. "But who cares? We're just friends."

I winced like he'd slapped me. "We are?"

I'd thought that, after everything that happened last night, we were so much more than 'just friends'. I thought that he really had feelings for me, too, impossible as it seemed. Had I been wrong? Had I imagined the whole thing?

I could feel my heart starting to shred in my chest, until I felt Jasper's hands settle on my waist. He tugged me forwards until I was close enough to feel his body heat. Without actually feeling his body.

"I'll rephrase that, shall I? _As far as they know_, we're just friends."

A spark of hope shot through me. "And… as far as we know?"

Jasper's eyes seemed to burn me all the way down to my bones as he met my gaze. "Well," he murmured. "I don't know about you, but I don't have any friends that I want to do _this_ with."

He leaned down and captured my mouth with his. Instinct took over, and my arms slid up around his neck, holding him to me. Jasper kissed me slowly, almost teasingly, like he had forever to do it. His early-morning stubble was rough against my chin, but it felt good. Better than good. I felt like my insides were slowly liquefying as I melted into a puddle of desire.

Then I remembered that my dad was still sitting on the sofa, and I pushed against Jasper's chest insistently until he broke the kiss.

When I regained enough control to look him in the eye, he seemed almost comically disappointed by the abrupt ending. I bit my lip and grinned at him.

"My dad's over there," I whispered.

"He's not watching," Jasper insisted.

"And how long do you think that would last if he glanced over here and saw us?"

He still looked a bit put out, but he conceded the point and let me go. If anyone else had glanced over, he would've seemed perfectly composed. Only I was close enough to hear the pounding of his heartbeat.

A ringing sound coming from Jasper's pocket made us both jump. I could tell he was still flustered as he fumblingly extracted his phone and held it to his ear. The thought made me inwardly break into a touchdown dance.

"Hello?" Jasper's voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hello?"

I was standing close enough to hear a muffled reply, but I couldn't tell what the individual words were. Thinking he'd probably be on the phone for a few minutes, I pulled my waffles towards me and dug in.

"What?" I glanced up just in time to see Jasper's expression freeze over. "Are you serious?"

I paused with my fork halfway to my mouth, dripping strawberry juice and maple syrup onto the counter.

"No, Edward, I didn't." Pause. "Is that what he's saying?"

Waving my hand to get Jasper's attention, I mouthed 'what's wrong'. He just shook his head at me.

"Wait for me there, then." I didn't like the tone in his voice. It was a combination of anxious and furious. "Yeah. Well, Alice is coming, too." Another pause. "Because I'm at hers now."

I still didn't have the slightest clue what was going on.

"Okay, Edward, we'll see you there. Bye." Jasper hung up the phone and slid it back into his pocket, jaw tightly clenched. He was gripping the counter so hard that I thought he might actually buckle the wood. I reached over and laid my hand on top of his.

"Jazz, what is it?"

His face softened when he looked at me again. "It's alright, Alice. Don't freak out."

"Maybe you should take your own advice." I eyed him warily. It looked like he was the one freaking out, from where I was sitting.

"It's this brunch… apparently, James is there. And he's not alone – Royce is back from L.A."

I'd expected James to be there. It was his father's brunch. But Royce… I wasn't sure what had gone on in the past between Royce and Rosalie, but from what I could gather it wasn't pleasant. It was also the reason she left school, the first time around.

"I don't care about seeing James," I lied. The truth was, Diary, the thought made me sick to my stomach, but I wasn't going to let Jasper go there alone. If things were headed the way I hoped they were, I wasn't intending to let him face the wolves alone again.

"Well, I do. He's saying I attacked him, unprovoked."

"People are going to know that's bullshit," I assured him, stroking my thumb across the back of his hand. "You know that everyone knows what James is like."

"Are you sure you still want to come with me to this thing?"

I stood on tiptoe to cradle his face in both my hands. Angling his head down so that I could look him in the eye, I stared into the cerulean depths of his irises as I spoke. "Not even wild Kings could drag me away."

He actually managed a half-hearted smile at that.

Jasper had complained about how I took ages in the bathroom while I showered. He'd managed to get his maid, Maggie, to drop off some clothes for him while I was getting ready, and had already changed by the time I emerged from the bathroom. Looking that good in a dark blue light-knit sweater and designer jeans shouldn't be possible, I thought, as I busied myself selecting an outfit.

I'd fretted about getting dressed up, but Jasper told me to just wear whatever felt comfortable. I'd raised my eyebrows at him for that, but he told me that he didn't give a damn what everyone else thought. He'd also told me that he liked the way I dressed. So I chose a long, charcoal gray dress that fell almost to my toes, accessorized with a long-chained charm necklace and a cropped jacket of black denim. Just for the hell of it, I decided to wear my beat-up black Chucks instead of heels.

I changed while Jasper turned his back, and then settled myself in front of the mirror to dry my hair off. He groaned at that, then gave a startled gasp as I pulled the towel from my head.

"Your _hair_!" he exclaimed.

I glanced at my reflection. My long, wet locks tumbled well past my shoulders, inky black except for one stripe of bright pink. I stroked one finger down the brightly colored new addition.

"Is that what took you so long?" Jasper demanded.

"Yeah. Do you like it?" I was suddenly nervous. He'd told me that he liked the fact that I'd had a pink stripe in my hair before. What if he'd changed his mind?

He pushed himself off the bed to stand behind me. His reflection in my vanity mirror scanned my hair for a long moment, before breaking into a wide smile.

"I love it. I especially love the fact that everyone else will hate it."

When my hair was dry, I left it in its natural style of loose curls. I quickly checked that my eyeliner wasn't smudged before grabbing my purse off my dresser and slinging it over one shoulder.

Jasper appraised me from the doorway. "You know, you looked gorgeous last night, Alice, but I don't think I've ever seen you look this beautiful."

I blushed all the way from my semi-dyed hairline to the toes of my scuffed high-tops.

* * *

We took a cab to the Imperial Hotel. I could feel my palms starting to sweat on the ride over, and I hastily wiped them on my dress. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew that Jasper's parents would be there. I was suddenly regretting my spontaneous decision to put the pink streak back in my hair. They'd probably take one look at me and call pest control.

Jasper's fingers slid through mine when we pulled up outside the hotel, and he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "We're going to be fine," he told me earnestly. "Just walk tall and show no fear."

"Walk tall?" I muttered. "Me?"

His lips pulled up into that smirk that made my knees weak. "It's an expression, Alice."

Edward and Bella were waiting for us in the lobby. I was thrilled to see that they were holding hands. Bella's eyes widened when she clocked my hair.

"Impromptu decision?" she checked, as soon as I reached her side.

"Kinda." I could feel the nervous butterflies crashing around inside me now as my breakfast threatened to make an encore appearance – only this time in reverse. "Where's Rose?"

"Inside," Edward answered. His green eyes were fixed on Jasper, and the two of them seemed to be having a wordless conversation. I watched as, almost imperceptibly, Jasper nodded. Edward turned away, seeming satisfied with whatever exchange had just passed between them.

"Nice hair," he told me with a grin. "Everyone up there is going to freak."

I felt like I was going to faint, but I put on a brave face. "No, they won't. They're just going to call _me_ a freak."

"There are worse things to be," Edward said. "Let's go make an entrance, shall we?"

I didn't want to let go of Jasper's hand. I was scared that, if I did, my feet would decide to make a bolt for safety. I could almost feel a magnetic pull coming from Brooklyn, demanding me to turn tail and run.

But I didn't want anyone else to know how much the Upper East Side got to me, so I squared my shoulders and slid my fingers from Jasper's grip. "Okay."

When we entered the room, the sudden silence was so absolute that, had I had the inclination to drop a pin, it would've been heard by every occupant. Our schoolmates took up three tables to our left, and they were all gaping at us in unflattering disbelief. Or, rather, they were gaping at _me_. Jasper's eyes were fixed on a table to the right. A blonde woman with perfectly coiffed hair was staring right back, her eyes flickering between Jasper's face and mine so fast that it made me dizzy. His mother. The man next to her was instantly recognizable from the front page of every paper in New York. Peter Whitlock, Jasper's dad. He was glaring at Jazz so intensely that it made _me_ uncomfortable. Not Jasper, though.

No. He blinked, and a newfound determination flickered in his eyes. Unsure of what he was going to do, I didn't even have the chance to protest before he reached over and very deliberately took my hand again.

The place exploded into a frenzied buzzing of whispered conversation. I tried my best not to look at any of the faces as Jasper towed me past them, right over to the table where his mother and father sat. Charlotte Whitlock was every bit as beautiful in real life as she was in her pictures, but the friendly smile she wore for the cameras was conspicuously absent as her eyes locked with mine.

I noticed that they matched Jasper's in color, but were entirely lacking his warmth and humor.

"Mom, Dad, this is Alice," Jasper introduced me in a firm voice. "We're going to need an extra chair."

As if on cue, a waiter appeared carrying a spare seat. He set it down in front of us, and Jasper pulled it out for me, indicating that I should sit. I did so, but only because my knees were knocking together from the trembling they were doing.

I glanced up, and nearly melted with relief when my eyes met a pair of wickedly sparkling violet ones. Rosalie was sitting directly opposite me, grinning like she'd only just discovered how to do it. She was flanked on either side by two equally beautiful, glowering people who could only be her parents. Her mother was exchanging a glance with Jasper's dad, and I noticed that they looked incredibly similar. Like they were twins, rather than just siblings. And neither of them looked pleased.

My gaze found Rosalie again.

_Welcome to hell,_ she mouthed. _Make yourself at home._

I fought the urge to break into a round of nervous giggles.

Jasper sank into the chair next to me and threaded his fingers through mine under the table. I clung to him like a life raft.

"So, Alice." His mom said my name with special emphasis, like it was a joke that went over my head. "How do you know Jasper?"

"From school," I answered, immensely relieved that my voice didn't tremble. "I go to Constance."

Her sneer told me that she was painfully aware that I wasn't paying for the privilege of matriculation. "Oh, really? And how long have the two of you been friends?"

"Not as long as we should've been." Jasper answered for me, and I could only admire the conviction in his tone. "But that was my fault."

He shot me a smile that seemed to thaw a bit of my insides. I squeezed his hand in silent thanks.

"Where are you from, Alice?" Charlotte asked, ignoring both her son's reply and the look that had passed between us.

I took a deep breath. Here goes… "Brooklyn, ma'am."

Her immaculately waxed eyebrows shot up her forehead, and her smile took on a predatory quality. Like I was a bug, and she was intent on toying with me for her own amusement before she finally decided to squish me. "How… interesting. What does your father do?"

"He runs an art gallery." My tone was bolder now. I refused to let her know that she was intimidating me.

"Fascinating." She took a sip of champagne. "And your mother?"

Touchy subject. I blanched. "She doesn't live with us. She's an artist in Hudson."

"Did your parents get divorced?"

"Mom!" Jasper warned, his voice sharp.

"What?" She turned to him with a faux-innocent expression. "I'm only trying to get to know Alice, darling. So, why is it that your mother lives in Hudson, dear?"

"My parents separated," I replied. "She's only gone up there to clear her head." Or so Dad kept telling himself. It was only supposed to be for the summer, but it was winter now, and there was still no sign of her. I had a feeling Claude was a big part of that, but Dad and Cynthia refused to accept the fact that she'd left us. No way was I sharing that with Jasper's snake of a mother, though.

"Did you not want to go with her?"

I could tell that that wasn't so much a question as an expression of her own desire for me to get the hell out of their party and run off to Hudson to never be seen again.

"No. I wanted to stay with my dad and my sister."

"Girls your age usually need their mothers, though. Why would you…?"

"Mom," Jasper interjected, and his tone was a long way past just a simple warning now. "That's enough. That's more than enough."

"No, Jasper," she said, so quietly I almost didn't hear her. "It's not. What do you think you're doing, bringing her here?" She turned to me again, and her eyes were glacial. "I'm sorry, Alice, but I think you should leave. Immediately."

I blinked. I'd been expecting animosity, sure, but she was kicking me out? For real?

I made to stand up, but Jasper's hand tightened on mine, keeping me anchored to my seat. "Hell, no. She's not going anywhere."

"Yes, I think she is." It was Jasper's father who spoke this time. He used the same irrefutable tone his son had. "You wouldn't really want to stay here if you'd outworn your welcome, would you, son? I think Alice feels the same way."

Again, the message came through loud and clear.

"Uncle Peter, that's ridiculous," Rosalie piped up. "Alice is my friend, too, and I don't think she's outworn her welcome at all."

The look the adults turned on her could've melted the flesh off her face.

"I think," Rosalie's mother spoke stiffly. "That's quite enough from you, young lady."

"If Alice leaves, I go with her," Jasper vowed.

"You'll do no such thing, Jasper Whitlock. The press are here." His mother hissed. "This is a family event, do you understand me?"

"Oh," Jasper replied coolly. "I understand you perfectly, Mother. I'm just telling you that I don't give a flying fuck."

She gasped, but the sound was muffled by the scraping of Jasper's chair as he pushed it backwards and stood. I got to my feet, too – I had no choice, seeing as we were holding hands.

"Sit down!" Charlotte demanded of him in a whisper. "You're embarrassing yourself."

"No, I don't think so, Mom." Jasper had raised his voice so that it rang out across the entire room. The congregation fell silent to listen, eyes alight with the prospect of potential scandal. "I think, of the two of us, the one who is embarrassing me is _you_. Come on, Alice, I think I've had all the family time I can stomach for one day."

And, with his words still echoing across the function room, he stepped away from the table and marched me across the floor, making sure to slam the door on his way out.

* * *

_**A/N – And thus concludes the 1**__**st**__** part of February 15**__**th**__**. Alice hasn't signed off at the end, because there's still more of February 15**__**th**__** to come. Considering I have been terrible and haven't updated in forever, I will post that part within the next 24 hours as a massive thank you to everyone who has stuck with me. **_

_**Angst awaits!**_

_**Much love,**_

_**PJ x**_


	9. February 15th (Part 2)

**February 15th (Part 2)**

As soon as we reached the sidewalk, Jasper tugged me against him and wrapped his arms around my waist. I leaned into the contact. He was the only thing that was keeping me upright.

"Are you okay?" he whispered. "I'm so sorry, I never expected in a million years that they would pull something like that."

"It's alright," I replied, winding my fingers in his hair. I felt my feet lift off the ground as he picked me up to save himself from stooping. "I was preparing myself for the worst, anyway. I just thought Upper East Siders were meant to have manners."

"Not when the paparazzi aren't listening, they don't," he advised darkly.

"Ah, well, I've always wanted to be kicked out of a swanky event. Makes me feel all dangerous," I joked.

"Alice…" He wrapped one arm more securely around my waist, and used the other to tuck a stray curl behind my ear. "You're amazing, do you know that?"

I could practically feel myself glowing from the compliment, but I feigned nonchalance. "Actually, yeah, I do. I discovered it at a very early age."

My body shook as he laughed against me. "Well, Mary Alice, now that we've been kicked out of the clubhouse, what do you want to do with our morning? I think just about anything would be more fun than _that_."

"We could go and get you a tattoo?" I suggested brightly. "That'd maybe put my pink hair in perspective for your parents?"

"True," he chortled, setting me on my feet and slipping his arm around my shoulders as we started to walk. "Or maybe I could get a piercing?"

"Or both?"

"Yeah, and then we could go and get arrested for something. Although, actually, my dad's sort of cornered the market on that one."

"Jaywalking doesn't really compare with embezzlement," I agreed.

Jasper grinned as we stopped beside a crosswalk. "Grand theft auto might do the trick."

"In New York?" I laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, the police would catch you while you were stuck in traffic."

We continued joking back and forth for several more blocks, our suggestions becoming more and more ridiculous as the time went on.

"Let's go and…" I broke off as my cell phone started blasting out Right Said Fred 'I'm Too Sexy'. I recognized the ring instantly. Seth had set it himself as a joke. Jasper's eyebrows rose at the tune, and I could feel my face heating up as I answered the call.

"Hey, Seth, listen, I can't really talk right…"

"Ali, you have to come, now!" Something in his voice made my insides freeze over, and the smile slid right off my face. "I'm at Lincoln Memorial."

"What is it? What's wrong?" I demanded urgently.

"It's Leah…" He sounded like he was holding back tears. "S-she's been hurt."

"Hurt how?" Jasper was watching me with a grave expression. I imagined my face didn't look much better. "What happened to her?"

"Someone shot her, Alice. She's in surgery now, but…" He broke off, and I heard the sound of his sobs through the phone. My heart nearly stopped beating, right there in my chest, because Seth _never_ cried. He yelled, he swore, he laughed off pain, but he never, ever cried.

"I'm on my way," I promised, and snapped the phone shut.

"Is everything okay?" Jasper asked immediately. I shook my head.

"No, Leah… she's in the hospital, Jazz. Somebody shot her." I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I said the words. I couldn't imagine who would do something like that – who would want to hurt someone as beautiful and wonderful as Leah?

"Oh my God," he breathed. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know." I struggled to sort through what Seth had just told me, but none of the information seemed to want to permeate my brain. "Seth said she was in surgery. I have to go and be there for him."

Jasper nodded at once. "Of course. Do you want me to…?"

"No," I answered. I stepped off the sidewalk and stuck my arm out, hailing a cab. "I'm okay by myself. Jasper, I'm so sorry, after what you did this morning, and now I have to leave…"

"It's okay, Alice, I understand. Tell Seth I'm thinking of him, 'kay?"

I looked up into his somber face, and thanked every star in the galaxy that I had found someone as incredible as Jasper, despite his messed-up family. I rose onto my toes to give him a quick kiss as a taxi pulled up to the curb.

"I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

He nodded, and shut the door for me once I clambered inside. I hated the fact that I was driving away from him – it hurt my heart to leave him standing on the sidewalk alone like that, but panic was beginning to eclipse all other feeling.

What the hell would be waiting for me at the hospital by the time I got there?

* * *

Little known fact about me, Diary. I've always hated hospitals. I think it stems from when I was little and Dad took me here to visit my Grams. Her Alzheimer's had been pretty far along by that point – she'd only recognized me about thirty percent of the time – and she'd screamed and thrown things until the doctors had had to put her in a locked ward for the safety of the other patients. Not to mention the staff.

I had known it was all necessary – I was ten, not stupid – but the idea of her lying in that big white room strapped down onto a gurney was one of the most terrifying thoughts I had ever had. It still is, to this day. And my mouth still went dry the second I walked through those automatic doors.

I sped up to the reception desk, ignoring the loud protest from the man at the front of the queue I'd just cut into, and leaned over the counter. "Excuse me, where can I find Leah Clearwater?"

The nurse glanced over in surprise, and then gave me a tight-lipped smile. "She's in theater right now, hon. But her family is in the waiting room if you want to grab a seat with them."

I took off in the direction she had indicated before she'd even finished her sentence. I barely had time to register a big, blue-and-white room filled with chairs before I heard a strangled, masculine cry that sounded vaguely like –

"Alice!"

Seth crashed into me at a run, and nearly took us both out. I staggered under his weight, patting his back at an awkward angle as he sobbed unrestrainedly into my hair.

Over his shoulder, I could see Sue sitting with her niece Emily and Sam, Emily's fiancée. Emily had a hold of both of her aunt's hands, but even with that I could see how hard Sue was shaking.

Sam looked uncomfortable to be there. Given his less than fantastic history with Leah, I could understand that. She and Sam had been dating right up until Sam and Emily managed to fall in love when they both joined Doctors Without Borders in Somalia. Awkward, to say the least, when your boyfriend breaks up with you because he's in love with your cousin. More power to Leah for having forgiven them… eventually.

Seth pulled back from our hug, and for the first time I saw how red his eyes were. Like he hadn't stopped crying since the second he found out. My heart tugged painfully.

"How are you holding up, honey?" I asked.

He shuddered. "I'm not good."

I stroked his hair back from his forehead, which was damp with cold sweat. Taking his hand in mine, I towed him over to an unoccupied row of chairs and we sat. Seth twisted in the seat, leaning his head on my shoulder and propping his legs on top of the three empty chairs to the right of him.

He kept a tight grip on my hand, and I didn't protest about the fact that my fingers were slowly turning blue. This was so surreal for me. Leah was lying on an operating table somewhere, and Seth – unshakeable, happy-go-lucky Seth – was falling into little pieces right in front of my eyes.

"Do we know anything?" I murmured after a while.

It was Sam who seemed to be the only one able to talk about it. With a nervous glance at Sue, he stood and motioned to me to follow him. I extracted myself from Seth, pledging to be back in a minute, and let Sam lead me out into the main foyer. We stood to one side, and under the fluorescent lights I saw that his complexion was worryingly gray. He was just as afraid as the rest of us.

But he was a doctor, and he could give it to me straight.

"Leah was shot on the job. She was doing some undercover sleuthing about gang warfare, and they found out she was a reporter. At least, that's what the police told us, anyway. She was conscious when they found her, apparently. She took one shot to the chest, one to the abdomen and one to the leg." He checked his watch. "She's been in surgery for two hours now, and they said they'd update us after three."

"Is it going to take longer than three hours?" I whispered.

Sam's eyes were grave. "I sure hope so. A surgery to repair such extensive damage should take upwards of ten. Anything less, and…"

He didn't have to say it. The words were written all over his face.

_Anything less would mean that she didn't make it through. _

"Tell me the truth, here, so I know what to expect." My voice was as shaky as my knees. I felt distant, lightheaded. I couldn't believe I was about to ask this question, about a girl I'd known since I was five years old. "Is Leah going to die, Sam?"

He looked wretched as he answered. "She has about a twenty-five percent chance of survival, provided that the bullet missed her aorta."

The room started to spin, and I had to clutch his arm to keep from falling over. My throat burned almost as painfully as my eyes as I fought to stop the tears that were threatening to come. More than anything, I wished that Jasper were there. I wanted to throw myself into his arms and bawl like a baby while he stroked my hair and told me all the right platitudes.

But that wasn't feasible. I needed to put my game face back on, and head back into the waiting room to be there for Seth, because that was my job. It had been my job since Kindergarten.

I was the one whose house he crashed at when his mom kicked him out. I was the one who gave him advice about girls, and clothes. I was the one who let him copy my homework, even if it had taken me all night to do, just so that he never got into trouble. I was the one who helped him write his college applications. I was the one who'd held his hand at his dad's funeral and promised him that everything would get better one day.

I couldn't afford to fall apart, because Seth needed me to keep him together.

"Okay," I said, steeling myself. "Okay."

When doctors say they're updating you, it's not strictly true. They show up at the door to the waiting room and say words, but really they're not telling you anything remotely understandable. They don't answer the important question. _Is she going to live?_ I supposed that they couldn't know for sure, but I still hated the fact that they danced around any real answers.

Seth and I had sat in complete silence for four hours before he decided to break it. His voice was barely there – a feeble croak from lack of use – but I heard the words clearly enough.

"I hate you. I wish you'd stop ruining my life. I wish you'd just disappear forever."

"What?" I tensed, feeling hurt lance through me.

"That's what I said to her, Ali. That's the last thing I said to her before she walked out of the door this morning."

I relaxed, though the pain in my heart intensified. "Oh, Seth… she knows you didn't mean that."

"What if she doesn't?" he whispered brokenly. "What if she thinks I hate her? What if she dies before I get the chance to tell her I didn't mean it?"

"She's not gonna die."

"You don't know that."

I had no answer for him, because he was right. I didn't know that. But I hoped.

"You'll see. She'll get out of surgery, and then she'll recover, and she'll be back to giving you verbal beat-downs in no time."

He made a small noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. "You mean it?"

"I mean it."

Seth closed his eyes, then, and actually managed to drift off into what must've been a horribly fretful sleep. I watched his face go slack, and then turned my attention to my own hands. I peeled all of the nail polish off my fingernails, just for something to distract myself. It didn't work.

When I was sure that Seth was fully asleep, I did something I had never done in my whole life. Something I never expected to do.

I got down onto my knees, right there in the waiting room, and I began to pray.

I wasn't religious. I didn't even think I had any right to ask for a reprieve from God, but I knew that if any family deserved a miracle, it was the Clearwaters. And even if there was the slimmest chance in the world that God would actually be listening to me, I was willing to take it. So I prayed until I felt a presence beside me. I looked up to find Emily standing over me, her beautiful face stricken. Sue was fast asleep with her head on Sam's shoulder, and I'd thought Emily had drifted off, too.

She took my hand in hers and sank to her knees at my side. Then she bowed her head and joined me in silent prayer.

I didn't know how long we sat like that. Long enough that I lost all feeling in my legs. Long enough that the waiting room had completely emptied again. I wondered what we must've looked like – the beautiful, sophisticated, russet-skinned doctor and the small sixteen year old with the pink hair kneeling hand-in-hand on the linoleum.

The fifteen hour mark came and went. Then the sixteen. Finally, after hour seventeen, an exhausted-looking man in a Hawaiian scrub cap entered the waiting room.

"Are you Leah Clearwater's relatives?" he asked us.

Seth's hand gripped mine hard enough to bruise as his mother got shakily to her feet. "That's us."

"We wanted to tell you that the surgery was a success. We removed all three of the bullets, and we've repaired the damage to her chest and abdomen. We had to do an appendectomy, and the surgery to her heart was quite extensive, but she should make a full recovery in a couple of months."

Sue gave a wordless shout and hurled herself into the doctor's arms, sobbing all over again. Emily and Sam were hugging and whooping. Seth gave a weak sigh and sank to his knees. He pressed his forehead to the floor and shook with tears of relief.

"So, she's going to be alright?" I checked.

"We want to keep her here under observation for a week or so, but yes, barring complications, she's out of the woods now."

"Thank you!" Sue bawled. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I dropped to the floor beside Seth, placing one hand on his shoulder. "Seth, it's going to be okay. I told you, Leah will be fine!"

He sat up suddenly, dark eyes burning with the intensity of his joy. "I thought…"

I opened my mouth to say something else, but I was cut off, because at that very moment, Seth grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled my face to his.

I froze as our lips collided, pure shock making me almost pass out. He seemed to realize what he'd done the second he'd done it, and he released me quickly. He was already hugging Emily by the time I'd recovered enough to stand up.

What the hell had just happened? Did Seth _kiss_ me? _Seth_?

It was just because of the heightened emotional turmoil, I told myself. Nothing to worry about. So I didn't. I just put it out of my mind.

I called Jasper to give him the good news as soon as I had it. He'd sounded relieved for us all. I'd asked him when I could make it up to him for bailing, and he told me that he was staying at Emmett's place, instead of at home, while Emmett was still hanging tight in the Ostroff center.

He even asked me to come over.

I didn't have a curfew, thanks to Dad being in Connecticut for some art show for the night, and seeing as Cynthia was still in Hudson visiting Mom, I had nowhere I had to be.

Which is how I found myself outside the door to Emmett's apartment twenty minutes later.

I knocked, once, and Jasper opened the door immediately. My heart nearly stopped at the sight of him. He was wearing sweats, and… nothing else. Just sweats. He raked one hand through his unruly hair and stretched the door wide, flooding the hallway with light.

"You gonna come in, or what?"

I strolled past him obediently, shrugging out of my jacket and tossing it onto the nearest table. I liked Emmett's place immediately. It had the 'lived in' feel of my loft, and similarly random décor.

Jasper picked up an open bottle of beer from the coffee table and settled himself back down on the couch, muting the TV with a battered-looking remote. He patted the cushion beside him, and I sat, feeling suddenly nervous. I didn't know what he expected to happen here, and that thought part excited and part terrified me.

"Is Seth okay?" he asked, and I felt a flash of fear shooting up my spine, before I remembered that Jasper knew nothing about the kiss. And it wasn't really a kiss, either, I told myself. It was an expression of joy at some unbelievably good news when we'd all spent the day clinging to the last vestiges of our sanity.

I realized I hadn't answered his question when he arched one brow at me. "Uh, yeah. Seth's okay. Relieved."

"I can imagine." Jasper's hands found my knees, and he used them to tug me closer to him. I settled against his chest, sighing with contentment.

"You're drinking." I noted.

"Yeah, uh, I felt the need."

"In Emmett's apartment?" I pursed my lips. "Isn't that in bad taste?"

"I'll get rid of the evidence before he comes back. Promise." He reached over to tuck my hair behind my ears, and his hand hovered over the pink streak. He stroked it lightly again, a slight smile on his face. "You know, the first time I saw this thing – the first time I saw you – I couldn't get you out of my head for a week. Not for one second. And for months afterwards, I would look for the pink hair in assemblies, just to see what you were doing. I remember one day, I looked for it and it wasn't there. I remember being so disappointed. I thought you'd left Constance or something. But then I saw you in the locker hallway later on, and I realized that you'd just got rid of it."

"Why do you like the pink so much?" I wondered. I had been wondering it ever since he'd voiced the thought aloud a couple of weeks before.

"It's like a big neon sign telling people that you don't give a damn what anyone else thinks. And that's the thing that I first fell for about you."

_Fell for? _My heart stuttered in my chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And the more I got to know you, the more I started to…" Jasper seemed to remember that he was talking aloud, because his eyes widened and he broke off with a sheepish smile. "Uh, so, what do you want to do? Watch a movie? The choice is yours."

I blinked, thrown off by the abrupt subject change. I was dying with curiosity over what he'd been about to say, but I didn't ask any questions. I didn't want to frighten him away, not when he was so close to actually being mine.

"I dunno, I don't really feel like concentrating on a movie, to be honest."

The heat from Jasper's lazy smirk made my insides clench with desire. "Who said anything about concentrating on it?"

"So, what? We put it on and ignore it?" My pulse whooshed in my eardrums.

"Exactly."

"Isn't that kind of pointless?" I murmured. I didn't even have a clue what I was saying anymore.

"No. It's traditional for guys to use movies as excuses to make out with girls that they like."

My heart lurched into my throat. I'd been hoping that was what he'd been getting at, and hearing him confirm it made my whole body ache with longing. Rather than making me feel shy and awkward, I found that it actually bolstered my confidence. Especially since Jasper was still looking at me like I'd invented sex.

"I don't think you need an excuse," I breathed.

He moved so suddenly that I didn't see it coming. One second, we were sitting up, angled towards each other, and the next second, my back was flat against the couch cushions and the hard planes of Jasper's torso were pressing into mine as he leaned over me. He was supporting his own weight so that he didn't crush me, but he made sure that there was just enough pressure there to drive every last coherent thought from my head.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he murmured, blue eyes sparkling with mischief and lust and a million other things that made me feel hot all over. He brought his lips towards mine, and I angled my head to make it easier for him, but he stopped a couple of centimeters short of actually kissing me.

I frowned at him in confusion. "Why aren't you…?"

He smiled like an angel would smile moments before he fell from Heaven. "Why, Alice, were you expecting something?"

"Yes," I almost whined, and I felt his silent chuckle shake my whole body.

"What were you expecting?"

"I thought you were going to kiss me." I sounded resentful to my own ears. Jasper's grin widened.

"I asked you what you wanted to do. You said no to the movie. The choice is yours, Alice. What do you want me to do?"

"Jasper…" I complained, lifting my head slightly towards him. He moved back an inch, and I noticed that the playful gleam in his eyes had intensified.

"You have to say it," he teased in a low voice that made my toes curl. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to… kiss me…" I was embarrassed to realize that I was breathless, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on Jasper. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the blue had been all but swallowed up by the blackness of his dilated pupils.

"I thought you'd never fucking ask," he growled, and his lips came down on mine.

I moaned in the back of my throat as soon as I felt his mouth moving on mine, and my fingers twisted in the silky strands of his hair, pulling him closer. My mouth opened, and his tongue brushed against mine. My heart hiccupped in my chest as he deepened the kiss, his hands ghosting up my sides over my dress. He gripped my hip with one hand as his tongue explored my mouth, his fingers skimming the small of my back. I arched up into him, kicking one leg over his waist, and I swallowed the groan that escaped him. My dress had hitched up almost to my waist, and as his other hand found my thigh, I felt his searing touch like a brand on my fevered skin. I whimpered as his hand slid higher up my leg, digging my nails into the hard muscles of his shoulders.

"Alice…" he breathed against my lips. "I want…"

"Do it," I panted. "Whatever you're thinking, just… do it…"

I was so sure that we were about to go further than just kissing. Hell, I could _feel_ Jasper's body responding to my touch. I knew he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him.

Which is why I was surprised when he broke our kiss and sat up.

"What is it?" The confusion in my tone was apparent. "Why did you stop?"

"Because," Jasper's voice was hoarse with need, and it made me giddy. "I need a break. I either had to stop or… not stop."

"So don't stop." I propped myself up on my elbows, blinking at him. "I don't want you to."

"And I don't want the first time we do this to be on Emmett's couch after you've just had pretty much the most emotionally charged day of your life," he responded, though he looked like he hated himself a little bit for saying the words. "You deserve better than that, Alice. _We_ deserve better than that."

I couldn't argue his point, because it was an incredibly thoughtful one to make.

"Okay," I whispered. "So you're saying no more kissing for now?"

He smiled. "Hell, no, I'm not saying that. I'm saying… give me five minutes to cool down, and then I'll be ready to let you get me hot all over again."

I flopped back down onto the cushions, a smile of victory creeping across my face. I knew my lips would be swollen in the morning, noticeably so, but I didn't care. I tell you, Diary, every second with Jasper is well worth the bruised mouth and stubble-rash.

I'll leave it here for now.

Emotionally charged and exhausted,

Alice.

* * *

_**A/N – See, I told you, two updates in twenty-four hours. Please consider this my official apology. **_

_**As always, I love to hear your thoughts, **_

_**PJ**_

_**x**_


	10. February 26th

**February 26****th**

Dear Diary,

The fact that Cynthia is in Hudson again for school break, coupled with the fact that my dad had decided to go to Chicago for the weekend for some kind of art fair, means that I'm free to do as I please.

And, seeing as Jasper still hasn't set one foot over the door of his parents' house since that disastrous brunch, 'whatever I please' meant that I headed over to Emmett's last night.

Spending the night making out with just about the hottest guy in existence is a stellar way to start the weekend. Waking up tucked into bed beside him is even better.

That's how I woke up this morning – snuggled in Jasper's arms with the duvet twisted around my legs.

Sleeping, Jasper looked like an actual angel, straight out of a Botticelli painting. I woke up first, and amused myself by resting my chin on his chest and watching him sleep. His eyelashes cast spiky shadows across the lightly tanned skin of his cheeks, and his full lips were slightly parted as he breathed in deep, even breaths.

I could've looked at him forever. If we'd been at my place, I'd have already grabbed my sketch pad. I was deliberating rifling through Emmett's drawers to see if he had paper and a number 2 pencil I could use, when Jasper cracked open one vibrantly blue eye.

"Stop watching me sleep, Ali. Go and find something more productive to do."

I felt my face flame, even though I could tell he was teasing. Hopefully my stare-a-thon had come across as charmingly besotted, rather than Glenn-Close-in-Fatal-Attraction-level obsession.

"I wasn't staring," I lied.

"Yes, you were. I can feel you watching me." His eyes opened all the way, and his lips tugged upwards into an adorably sleepy smile. "There are more fun ways to wake me up, you know…"

I bit my lip as he let the suggestive comment trail off, torn between being thrilled and nervous. As much as the last eleven days had delivered many a heated make-out session, we'd still not done anything more explicit than that. I'd slept in his bed – or technically, Emmett's bed – twice, and my PJ shorts and tank top had remained firmly in place the entire time. The terrified virgin in me appreciated his show of gentlemanly restraint, but another, wilder part of me was beginning to surface now. And that part was practically screaming at Jasper to make a proper move already.

Desperate to distract myself from my wayward thoughts, I sat up.

"I'm gonna get some water," I told him. "You want any?"

"Nah, I'm good. I'll just steal some of yours."

With a smile, I rolled over and out of the bed. My bare feet hit the carpet with a muted thump, and I headed out the door. I tried not to think about the fact that I could feel Jasper's gaze lingering at the hem of my very short shorts as I walked away.

If I thought about it too much, there would be very little stopping me from throwing caution to the wind – along with the shorts, probably – and just jumping back into the bed to seal the deal.

And if I was truly honest with myself, I wasn't quite ready for that, as much as I wanted to be.

I pulled a tall glass from Emmett's top cabinet when I reached the kitchen, and held it under the stream of icy water from the sink faucet. Peeking in a couple of the cupboards, I managed to scrounge up a couple of strawberry flavored pop tarts. Jamming them into the toaster, I leaned against the counter to wait.

"What're you cooking?" Jasper called through from the bedroom.

"Pop tarts," I shouted back. "I put one on for you."

"Thanks!"

Cocking my head to one side, I listened for the sound of bedsprings. Not that I expected to hear them – Jasper made a point of staying in bed until early afternoon unless he had a very good reason not to. When silence greeted my ears, I allowed myself a small smile. I liked that I knew him well enough to know that he wasn't about to budge any time soon.

I hummed contentedly to myself as I bustled around the kitchen, pulling out a couple of plates to serve our breakfast on. Emmett would be pleased with me, when he eventually came back here. I'd cleaned the place from top to bottom. To be honest, I had no idea how he'd even managed to exist in such a slovenly way for so long. Men really are slobs.

Honestly, diary, it was as if my thoughts had suddenly conjured him up out of nowhere.

The sound of the front door banging open caused me to jump. I sloshed water all down my tank top with the motion, turning the sky blue material slightly translucent. I was looking around the kitchen for a weapon to defend myself with when I heard a familiar voice from the doorway.

"Hey, Tink. _Love_ the hair."

Emmett stood in the entrance; a gym bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, taking up more space with his bulk than should be allowed. His gray-green eyes were deeply amused as he regarded my barely-there pajamas and sleep-tousled curls.

"Emmett! I didn't know you were coming back today."

"Neither did Jasper." Yep, that was definitely humor in his tone. He gave me a quick once over, and I tried unsuccessfully to tug my shorts down to cover more of my legs. "I think it's going to be a surprise for all of us."

The pop tarts pinged out of the toaster, and I just left them there, blushing furiously under his playful, knowing gaze. "It's good that you're out."

"You're telling me," he agreed, and then raised his voice loud enough to carry through to the bedroom. "Oi, Jasper! Get your lazy ass out of my bed and come say hi!"

I heard a muffled curse, followed by a loud squeal of springs as Jasper rolled off the mattress. A moment later, he was strolling into the kitchen, once again wearing nothing but the sweats he'd worn to bed. They hung low on his hips, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the pale line of hair that ran from his belly button out of sight below his waistband. I swallowed nervously.

Jasper crossed defined arms over his sculpted chest, arching both brows at his friend. "I see they finally let you out of the nut house, then."

"It was a rehab facility," Emmett chuckled. "But yeah. Sorry to interrupt. Though, for the record, you're stripping my bed before I get back in it. He who compromised the virtue changes the sheets. House rules."

If my face got any redder, I think I'd actually have turned into a tomato. "I… uh… we didn't…"

Emmett smirked. "Sure you didn't."

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

Jasper, meanwhile, simply grinned. "Relax, Em, both your sheets and Alice's virtue remain uncompromised."

"Seriously?" Emmett laughed. "Well, didn't your mama raise you right, Jasper Whitlock!"

"She didn't raise me at all." He said the words like they meant nothing, but I caught a flash of something painful in the cobalt twists of his irises. "Maggie did. And she was always a good little Catholic girl." A lopsided grin spread across his face. "Or, at least, so she tells me."

Emmett sniggered, and his eyes flickered between the two of us. I hoped my face had returned to a normal human color, but I couldn't be sure. "So, what's going on with you two then?"

"Uh…" Jasper shot me a look that was almost… nervous? "We're…"

"Together?" Emmett finished.

Jasper rumpled his already messy hair. "I hadn't officially asked or anything, but…"

"Yeah," I piped up. "We're together."

The smile Jasper gave me made my heart stutter in my chest.

"Well, about time, too," grunted Emmett, and he set his bag down on the tile with a loud smack. "Seeing as you've been using my house as a love shack, one of you better make yourself useful and make me some coffee."

I stood on tiptoe to pull a mug out of the top cupboard and began ladling coffee into it. "You've only got the instant kind," I told Emmett mournfully. He chuckled.

"Yeah, I'm all about the instant gratification, Tink. You should know that by now."

Jasper hopped up onto the counter beside me, fingers combing through my hair as I stood there waiting for the kettle to boil. His touch sent shivers down my spine, which I tried dutifully to ignore for Emmett's sake.

"Did Edward not spring you?" Jazz asked, making a show of glancing around the kitchen, like he expected his friend to suddenly appear.

"Nah. He's too busy getting it on with his girl-next-door type." Emmett grinned ruefully. "I swear, all of you kids are getting more action than me, these days."

"What about Rosalie?" The question slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. Emmett frowned.

"What about her?"

"Well, I thought you two were…" I trailed off, unwilling to actually say the words aloud. "She's nuts about you."

"Me and Rosie? You're kidding!" he let out a laugh, which, if I didn't know any better, sounded nervous. "We're not… she's not… no…"

This time, I laughed. I turned to Jasper with a conspiratorial wink. His blue eyes twinkled back at me in amusement.

"You know, Em, I don't think I've ever seen you speechless before," he said slyly, stretching like a cat. "It's an improvement."

"Ha ha." Emmett recovered himself, but just barely. He still wore the expression of someone who'd just been clubbed over the head with something heavy. It was only then that it occurred to me that men aren't just slobs – they're also idiots. How can they not tell when girls like them? It takes a special kind of obliviousness to spend so much time with someone and not pick up on that.

The conversation continued in much the same teasing way over coffee and pop tarts – Emmett made me put one on for him as well – and I found myself marveling once again at the way things had changed so drastically for me in the space of a few short weeks. I'd been Billy No Mates. Now I had a group of friends, fun ones, and I had… Jasper. My boyfriend. Officially. Eek.

* * *

Jasper and I got ourselves dressed and got out of Emmett's hair shortly after breakfast. We were walking hand in hand towards the subway station, chatting away, and I was just about ready to float on air.

"Jazz…" I said, tugging him to a stop. He twisted around so that he could pull me into his arms, heedless of the people trying to sidestep past us.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you'd maybe go someplace with me."

He arched one eyebrow, smirking. "Be vaguer."

I blushed. "Sorry. I want to go to the hospital to visit Leah."

"Oh." He considered for a moment. "Are you sure that's okay? Me coming with you, I mean. I've never met her before, after all."

"Yeah, it's fine." I ducked my head against his chest, embarrassed about admitting the next part. "I… uh… might've told her about you. She's been dying to meet you for ages."

"Ages?" Both of Jasper's eyebrows shot up this time, and I mentally kicked myself for my slip-up. "Exaggerate, much? We've only been together for a couple of weeks."

"Uh… yeah…"

"Alice." There was a spark of curiosity in his indigo eyes. "When did you say you told her about me?"

"Um…"

"Alice."

I pressed my forehead even closer to his sweater, about ready to expire from mortification. "Sophomore year?" The words came out like a question.

Jasper went so still, it was like he was made out of stone. I froze, too, waiting for him to freak out. His voice was very quiet when he spoke. "Just how long have you liked me, exactly?"

I wanted the ground to open up underneath me and swallow me and my big mouth whole. "Since… well… I…"

"Alice."

"Freshman orientation," I muttered. My cheeks were hot enough to fry eggs on.

Again, Jasper was quiet for entirely too long. He took a step away from me, but I was relieved to see that he still kept his hands on my waist. I braved a glance up at him to find him looking down at me with the strangest expression on his face. It wasn't freaked out. It was more… incredulous.

"You…" He shook his head, like he was trying to clear his thoughts. "Are you kidding me?"

Meekly, I shook my head.

"You mean to tell me that you've had a crush on me for years, and you never said anything? Never even spoke to me?"

"Uh… yeah…"

He closed his eyes, letting out all of his breath in one big whoosh. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

"Jasper…" Abruptly, I was terrified. He totally thought I'd gone all Glenn Close now. I imagined he was about to hot-foot it home and start hiding his rabbits. Assuming he had rabbits, which, come to think of it, he probably didn't. Still.

"Alice!" he groaned. "I can't believe you didn't tell me."

"Well, how was I supposed to say to you that I…" I broke off. No need to make the situation any more painful.

"I've been obsessing over you for years, thinking you hated me and everything to do with my world, and now I find out that I didn't have to? I could've just chucked Maria and asked you out when I was sixteen!"

My jaw dropped. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me." The playful, teasing light was back in his eyes. "God, I could've saved myself so much heartache."

"You…" I tried to get that to compute in my head, but it was suddenly like he was speaking a language I didn't understand. "You liked me? Back then, I mean?"

"Have you not been listening to a single word I've said over the last couple of weeks?" He sounded amused, and a little exasperated. "I've basically told you as much a bunch of times."

"But, why?" I murmured. To be honest, I still didn't really get why he liked me _now_.

"Are you crazy? _Look_ at you. How could I not?" His eyes trailed over me, making a complete sweep before landing back on my face. "I've been pining after you since the first time I ever spoke to you."

I dropped my gaze, pleasantly embarrassed again. "I'm not that special. I'm not even that pretty." Not compared to the Adonis that he was, anyway.

"No." He caught my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. "You're right. You're not special. You're not pretty." I felt my face fall a little, but there was something fervent in his eyes that told me he wasn't done. He leaned his forehead down against mine, and when he next spoke, his voice was low and full of ardor. "You are the most beautiful creature walking this earth."

The conviction in his tone – not to mention the words themselves – made me catch my breath. A second later, he was kissing me. I'd never been a fan of public displays of affection, but I melted into his embrace like ice-cream in July. My fingers twisted in his hair as he swept me off my feet – figuratively as well as literally. Forget flying. I was in orbit.

He ended the kiss when we were both in danger of passing out, and I heard a couple of catcalls from the opposite side of the street. We ignored them, lost in our own little bubble of bliss. I couldn't believe that any of this was real.

_I love you. _I wanted to say the words, but they got stuck in my throat. They were monumental, and terrifying, especially since I knew that they were true. I do love him. So much so that it hurts to be apart from him. But I knew that telling him that, giving away my heart entirely, wasn't something to be done in the middle of a crowded street. So, instead, I said – "Wow, Mr. Whitlock, you really are quite the charmer, aren't you?"

He grinned lopsidedly. "Only on the days that end in 'y'."

I laughed. "So, will you come with me to see Leah?"

He stepped back again, sliding his fingers through mine. "Sure."

* * *

Lincoln Memorial was full on visiting hours, but I navigated our way to Leah's room without much difficulty. Jasper hadn't let go of my hand since our little interlude on the street, and I must've looked like I slept with a hanger in my mouth, my grin was so ginormous. This, I realized, was what it felt like to be truly happy.

Leah was up and awake when we stopped in at her room. "Hey, sweetie," she greeted.

I did a quick assessment of her progress. There was color in her cheeks today, and her gorgeous russet skin had lost that peaky look. I let go of Jasper in favor of giving her a kiss on the cheek. Her dark eyes were bright with interest as she regarded him over my shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Better. I needed less morphine to tone down the bitchiness today." She gave me a tired grin, and then jerked her head in Jazz's direction. "Well done, Ali. He's _cute_."

Jasper grinned wryly at the compliment, and I couldn't help the giggle that came out of my mouth. "I know, right?" I teased. "Rich, too."

"Score."

Chuckling, Jasper extended a hand towards her. "Jasper Whitlock. I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Manners. Ooh, I like that." Leah took his proffered hand. "I'm Leah Clearwater, Alice's honorary big sister. And you, honey, are a sight for sore eyes."

I could almost swear that Jasper actually blushed a little. Only a little, though. "Uh, thanks."

"You being good to my Ali?" she asked. "Treating her right?"

I rolled my eyes, but Jasper answered seriously. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good stuff. And you're being careful? Always using protection?"

"Leah!" I gasped, mortified. Jasper grinned.

"What?" she teased. "If a big sister can't ask that, what can she ask?"

"Oh my God, you're so embarrassing!" I muttered, burying my face in my hands.

"Sweetie, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. If I had a boyfriend that looked like that when I was sixteen…" she trailed off wistfully, shooting Jasper a wink. He snickered.

After that, mercifully, the conversation drifted to more polite and decent topics. Jasper took a lot of interest in her journalistic career, paying rapt attention to all of her stories. She laughed easily at his jokes, and by the time visiting hours were almost over, she was ready to declare to anyone who'd listen – nurses, orderlies, the occasional doctor – that she was planning a June wedding for the pair of us. As excruciating as I found the whole ordeal, Jasper found it equally amusing.

At least, until Seth showed up.

He edged his way into the room with a bouquet of daisies under one arm, and his face immediately lit up when he saw that I was there. Then his gaze landed on Jasper, and his expression froze. Uh oh. I remembered something Seth had said about Leah needing to remain out of the public eye while she recovered, and I imagined he wouldn't like the idea of the press's favorite poster boy visiting her.

"Oh," he said. "Hey."

"Hi," Jasper was still grinning at whatever Leah had just said, and seemed oblivious to the sudden tension radiating from Seth. "How's it going?"

"Good," he replied stiffly. He turned to me. "Uh, Alice, can I borrow you for a sec?"

Bewildered, but with a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach, I got to my feet. "Uh huh."

I followed Seth out of the room and around the corner. He stopped at the nurses' station, leaning against the counter and surveying me with the strangest look in his eyes. I dithered a couple of feet away, inexplicably nervous as I waited for him to speak.

"So… you and Whitlock… that's serious?"

Not the opening I'd been expecting. I'd been preparing myself for him to berate me for bringing Jasper here to visit his sister when he didn't know her from Eve. "Uh, yeah. Well, I mean, I hope so."

"Right." There was a weird tightness in his voice that I couldn't comprehend. "So, have you slept with him?"

"Seth!" I couldn't believe how brazen people were being about my sex life. "That's…" I didn't know why I didn't just tell him the truth – I mean, we tell each other everything. I'd had to listen to Seth's recounting of when he lost his virginity in painful detail. Instead, I narrowed my eyes and said, "that's none of your business."

"Sure." He didn't sound sure. In fact, he sounded pissed off. "Whatever you say."

"What's up your ass?" I demanded.

"Nothing." He took a deep breath, and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, his expression had morphed into something a little more Seth-like, except it was full of concern. "Just… be careful, okay?"

It was dangerously close to what Leah had said. "Are you giving me 'the talk'?"

"No. I meant be careful with him. I don't want you to get hurt."

My nose wrinkled in utter confusion. "Why would I get hurt?"

"Because teenage guys – particularly spoilt rich kids like him – are used to getting what they want. And they get bored of their shiny toys pretty quickly."

Ouch. I felt like he'd just gut-punched me. "Are you saying that he's just going to use me and dump me?"

"I'm saying you should keep your eyes open."

My temper flared. "You know, Seth, not all guys are as callous with women as you."

This time, it was Seth who jerked like I'd punched him. "Nice, Ali."

"Well, you started it."

"I'm only looking out for you." His sanctimonious tone irked me. How dare he try and claim the high ground on this conversation?

I glared up into his annoyingly handsome face, wishing I was tall enough to actually punch him in it. That'd show him. "No, you're being an ass. Which, come to think of it, isn't that far a departure from tradition."

"There's no need to be such a bitch. I'm trying to help."

"You're trying to ruin the one thing that's made me happy since I started at Constance." My hands braced on my hips, I intensified my glower. "Where do you get off, Seth? What gives you the right to try and poison this? You don't want me to be happy?"

"I don't want you to get eaten alive by those elitist bastards, Al! What do you think is going to happen if you keep dating this guy? You're not one of them. You don't belong in his world! I'm trying to protect you."

"Here's a thought," I spat. "_Don't_."

With that, I turned on my heel, and stormed back into Leah's room. I told her that Jasper and I had to leave. He took one look at my thunderous expression and didn't question the matter.

Jasper tried to get me to tell him what had gone down between Seth and I, but I refused to talk about it. I didn't even want to acknowledge that he'd gotten to me. I hadn't fought with Seth – really fought, that is – in years. The look on his face when I'd left him kept coming back on me like a dodgy meal.

* * *

Edward had texted Jasper for us to meet up with him and Bella at Central Park for a picnic. The idea seemed goofily romantic – kind of like Edward himself – and I could use any distraction, so it was a half hour later that we met them.

Bella had spread out a checkered blanket across a big patch of grass that was half in the shade of two massive trees, and Edward seemed to have brought enough food to feed the five thousand.

We sat and ate our fill, laughing and joking like normal. But all the while, Seth's words were bouncing around my head. _You don't belong in his world._

Eventually, I managed to put Seth out of my head. The sun was beginning to set, and I lay snuggled up on the blanket with Jasper, tucked under his arm with my head on his chest. Bella sat between Edward's legs as he propped himself up on a nearby tree, and I could tell that the wine we'd been drinking had gone straight to her head. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were a little too bright.

"Did you guys ever notice how pretty the clouds are?" she gushed.

Edward seemed to find her slight intoxication almost as amusing as I did. "Can't say that I did, Bells."

"They are!" she insisted, leaning her head back on his shoulder. "They're so pretty. Almost as pretty as you."

Jasper and I exchanged grins. I suddenly noticed that my face felt a little warm from the alcohol consumption, too. Apparently Bella wasn't the only one feeling the effects.

"You okay, Alice?" Jasper whispered, as Bella rambled on about clouds to Edward, who was grinning at her like she was the most endearing thing he'd ever seen. Those two were so sweet together, I immediately felt like brushing my teeth after hanging out with them.

"Yeah," I sighed happily. Jazz's fingers were tracing a warm pattern across my lower back, under my shirt. I loved the way his touch was sending tingles right up my spine.

"What happened today? At the hospital, I mean?"

"It doesn't matter," I murmured, and in that moment, it really didn't. All that mattered was that Jasper and I were together, in these stolen hours away from the real world. "Just forget about it. I already have."

"Okay, but…" I cut off his protest by pulling him in for a kiss. He responded with his usual intensity, shifting us both so that I was lying on top of him. He reached up and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear, transferring his mouth to my neck. I tilted my head to give him better access as he peppered light kisses along my throat. "What was I saying?" he murmured against my skin.

"I don't care," I breathed, and he laughed softly. His mouth found its way back to mine, and my heart swelled in my chest.

"Guys!" Bella exclaimed. "Get a room!"

We broke apart, grinning at her. Jasper pushed himself into a sitting position, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as I slid into his lap. His hand toyed with the hem of my skirt, but didn't go any higher.

"You're just jealous," I teased.

"Pfft!" Edward scoffed. "She has nothing to be jealous of, right, Bella?"

She beamed at him. "Hardly. My boyfriend's even prettier than yours, Alice."

"Not likely," I whispered in Jasper's ear, and I felt him smile into my hair. To Edward, I said, "I hope you plan on getting her home okay."

He laughed. "Trust me, I'll make sure she gets back in one piece."

I gave another contented sigh and buried my face in Jasper's shoulder. The sun had almost completely sunk over the horizon, and I felt myself shiver with the sudden chill. He wrapped his arms around me securely, lending me some of his body heat. The faint scent of citrusy aftershave clung to his skin, and I sucked in a deep breath, trying to savor it.

A couple of hours later, Jasper walked me home. He was going back to crash at Emmett's, but seeing as Em was back, he'd be on the couch. I was tempted to invite him up to mine – truthfully, I couldn't bear to leave him – but he told me that he wanted to be there for Emmett on his first night out of Ostroff. I love him for that, as well as for a thousand other reasons.

Honestly, Diary, life seems too good to be true right now.

Love,

Alice.

* * *

_**A/N - Once again, I'm so so so sorry for the appallingly long wait. You guys who've been reminding me to update, thank you! You've really given me a boost (the guilt trips do work!) and if you've been sticking with this story, despite my incredibly long updates, I really do love you. **_

_**PJ**_

_**x**_


	11. March 4th

_**A/N - So, I swear, I'm going to try and make my updates of this story much more regular. I put myself to shame when I realized that my other story that I'm working on at the minute, Enthralled, had five updates in a week, and this one had, well, one in a month. I know. Unacceptable. **_

_**On the bright side, I've finally remembered where I'm headed with this story, so hopefully I can kiss goodbye to the writer's block *frantically knocks on wood* but yeah, anyway, here it is - March's first diary entry. (And, spoiler alert, shit is going to go down in March, let me tell ya!) **_

_**Please don't judge me for signing off an AN like this, but seeing as it is a GG based story...**_

_**You know you love me,**_

_**XOXO**_

_**PJ**_

* * *

**March 4****th**

Dear Diary,

So, I haven't spoken to Seth in a week. Not one word. I don't much care, to be honest. He was completely out of line with what he said to me. I'm going to let him stew for a while longer before I extend the hand of forgiveness.

Since I officially became Jasper's girlfriend, I seem to have acquired a new celebrity status at school. It's weird, but kind of fun. Definitely beats people muttering about me being a freak. With Jasper holding my hand in the corridors between classes, I actually feel like I'm strong enough to bear the stares.

Today was no different in that respect, but something interesting happened. Really interesting. I'll get to that later, though. First, I've got to set the scene.

Things started to pick up around lunchtime.

Rose, Bella and I were all sitting at our usual table, munching our way through half of the school salad bar. We were waiting for the guys to show up – Jasper and Edward now ate lunch with us, rather than their brethren – and the topic of conversation had gravitated, as it often did, these days, onto the subject of someone's love life.

Today, it was Rosalie's.

"You know," Bella began, crunching down on a piece of carrot. "You really should think about dating."

Rose surveyed her with an amused look over a forkful of rocket. "Who died and made you cupid all of a sudden?"

Bella, true to form, blushed. "I'm just saying, maybe you should think about it."

"I swear, the shy girl gets a boyfriend – even a total dork like Edward – and all of a sudden, it's like she works for ." Rose swigged at her water, glaring daggers at our doe-eyed friend. I grinned to myself, letting out the barest hint of a laugh.

It was enough of a noise that Rose picked up on it.

Violet eyes narrowed, she rounded on me. "Are you going to weigh in on this, too?"

I held up my hands in the universal sign for 'I surrender'. "I'm not saying a thing. Except… well, you really need to man up and tell Emmett how you feel."

I don't think she could've been more surprised if I'd just jumped up on the table and started performing a fan dance with a lettuce leaf. "What?"

"You heard me." I smirked, and suddenly reminded myself of Jasper. Was that old adage true, then, about couples starting to act alike? "You're completely in love with him. A Cyclops with a pencil stuck in his eye could see that."

Rosalie was incoherent. "I… no… that's not… I mean… shut up!"

Bella gaped at her, and I could see the light bulb flashing on over her head. It occurred to me then that she'd been as oblivious to Rosalie's feelings as Emmett was. Huh. Maybe it wasn't everyone else being obtuse. Maybe I was just weirdly intuitive about that sort of thing.

"You and Emmett?" She clapped her hands together. "That would be amazing! You have to tell him."

"I don't have to tell him anything," Rose grumbled. "You people aren't the boss of me."

We both laughed at her discomfort. "Come on, Rose. He'd be cray-cray if he didn't feel the same way."

"Which, incidentally, he does," I put in. Rosalie's head snapped up at that.

"He does?"

"Trust me on this one."

Our conversation was interrupted before she could grill me any further by the arrival of Edward and Jasper. They slid onto the bench beside Bella and I respectively, and Jasper leaned forwards to steal a tomato off my plate. I shot him a reproachful look.

"Hey. Get your own."

He poked his tongue out at me playfully, and proceeded to ruffle my hair. I ducked out from under his hand, laughing.

That's when things got weird.

"Rosalie?" Some freshman guy with really terrible skin had just approached her. She turned with her usual winning smile.

"Uh huh?"

"Is it true that you had an abortion last year?"

We all inhaled sharply. Jasper's fist – the one that was resting on my knee – clenched so hard that his whole hand turned white. Bella caught my eye, looking alarmed.

Rose, meanwhile, acted as though the question was perfectly reasonable. "No, it's not."

"Oh. Okay." The boy turned to go, but I called him back.

"Wait! Who did you hear that from?"

He looked a little embarrassed, shuffling from one foot to the other. "Uh, well… James King said that Rosalie got knocked up by his brother, and that's why she left Constance. He said that he thought she had an abortion, but maybe she went to one of those clinic places where you can stay until you have the kid and give it up for adoption."

"Right." My voice was cold. Beside me, Jasper was shaking with rage. "That's total bullshit, you know."

"Okay." He dithered. "Can I go now?"

"Sure." The freshman scuttled off, and I turned back to my shell-shocked group. "Why would James make up something that's so obviously untrue?"

"Beats me," Edward shrugged. I noticed then that he was wearing his reading glasses, and that Bella alternating between sneaking concerned glances at Rose and watching her boyfriend with the most adorably sappy expression on her face. "James is an ass. I suppose that's all the explanation you need."

"Let's not even acknowledge his gossip with speculating about it," Bella suggested, and there was a low murmur of agreement from the others. I barely noticed, though. I was too busy watching Rose. She'd gone white as a sheet, and was trying to peel the label off her water bottle with trembling fingers, not meeting any of our eyes.

I can't help but wonder, Diary, if maybe there was more truth to that story than anyone was letting on.

Lunch ended without further incident, and the rest of school carried on in much the same way. Maria and her cronies tried unsuccessfully to get me into detention in AP History, but I ignored them. Who knew I would become so magnanimous now that I was dating Jasper? Certainly not me, that's for sure.

I sat on one of the tables and waited for Jasper in the quad when the bell rang – he and I were planning on catching a movie after school – and used that time to chew over Rosalie's reaction to that rumor. It was odd, definitely, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. I decided to put it out of my mind. People were entitled to keep their own secrets.

"Hey," Jasper greeted me, emerging from the boys' corridor with his bag slung over one shoulder and his green scarf tucked under the lapels of his jacket. He bent to brush a kiss against my temple, and when he straightened up, there was a glimmer of something excitable in his indigo eyes. "I've got a cool surprise."

"Ooh." I slid from the table and linked my hand with his as we began to walk. "I like surprises."

"You'll definitely like this one. Remember last Monday, when I told you about that art show?"

"You mean the one in the Hamptons over spring break?" I checked. He nodded. "What about it?"

"Well, I got us tickets."

I tugged him to a stop. We were halfway out of the school gate, and people grumbled at our sudden lack of movement as they quickly darted out of the way to avoid bumping into us. It struck me, then, that nobody was giving the pair of us any sidelong glances anymore. Sometime in the last week, we'd become an officially accepted couple in the eyes of the student populace. Constance is funny like that – the rumor mill eventually churns itself out.

Anyway, back to the conversation. "You what?"

"I thought we could go up there for spring break. Edward and Bella, too. Rosalie, too, as long as she doesn't mind hanging out with couples."

"Bring Emmett," I suggested immediately. Then, what he'd said actually began to sink in. "Wait, so you want me to go away to the Hamptons with you for all of spring break, and just hang out and go to art shows on yachts?"

"Is that a problem?" Jasper looked amused.

"Are you crazy? It's a dream come true!" I stood on tiptoe to kiss him, and he lifted me off my feet.

"I'm glad you like the idea. It's only five weeks away."

I thought about that for a moment. Five weeks until I would be sitting on the beach in the Hamptons, sipping drinks and admiring high class art. Being with Jasper was opening up doors for me that I'd always imagined would stay closed.

"Jasper?"

We both turned at the sound of a trembling, feminine voice. It took us a second to pinpoint where the noise was coming from. A limousine was parked outside the school with the back window rolled down, and, looking out of it with red-rimmed eyes, was Jasper's mother.

I'd never seen her look less than perfectly put together, so the sight of her makeup-less face and watery eyes was something of a shock. Her hair was limp, like she hadn't used any product on it in days. In short, she looked like hell.

"Mom?" Jasper set me back down on the sidewalk, but didn't let go of me, a show of unity which I appreciated. "What's the matter?"

"Please, get in the car, Jasper. It- it's your father."

"What about him?" His voice was casual, but I felt his grip on my waist tighten slightly, an indication of his nerves.

"I'd rather talk about it in the car."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying with Alice."

She sighed, closing her eyes like she was trying to gather patience. "Fine. Alice, you come as well."

"I'm sorry?" I was shocked.

"Quickly, before I change my mind."

After exchanging an uneasy glance, Jasper and I piled into the car. We moved across the back to sink into the seat opposite his mother. His fingers threaded themselves through mine, and I could feel them trembling. I ran my thumb across his knuckles in a wordless attempt to soothe him.

"What's going on, Mom?" He managed to keep his voice deceptively calm.

"It… well, it's complicated." She sniffed, shooting me an uneasy glance. Despite the fact that she'd invited me along, I knew that she wasn't at all comfortable discussing any of this in front of me. "I've… let Maggie go."

"What?" Jasper rocketed forwards in his seat, and I tightened my grip on his hand, suddenly worried that he'd launch himself at his mother. "Why would you do that? Maggie's the closest thing I've got to a real mom!"

Charlotte flinched at his words, and I couldn't help but feel a little bad for her. Despite her general unpleasantness towards me, I knew she loved Jasper. It was kind of impossible not to. "Maggie is pregnant."

"Yeah, I know," Jasper said belligerently. "And there's something in her contract that forbids that, is there?"

"Not exactly," Charlotte replied stiffly. She took a sip of the scotch that I hadn't realized she'd been holding, and I frowned as a sense of ominous foreboding stole over me. The bad feeling had little to do with the fact that Jasper's mom was drinking at three in the afternoon, and more to do with what I suspected was the cause of her behavior.

"Wait, I thought you said this had something to do with Dad?" Jasper frowned.

The pieces clicked together in my head, just then, and from the look on Jasper's face, the same seemed to be true of him. He blinked at his mother incredulously.

"It has everything to do with your father."

"Mom? What are you actually saying here?"

"I'm saying that Maggie's pregnancy is a result of one of your father's… indiscretions."

Holy shit. And I thought my family was screwed up. It was a total cliché – the mogul screwing the maid. Except Maggie was so, so much more than that to Jasper. She was his honorary big sister, his closest ally at home, his sometimes-mom and his always-confidant.

"You're saying that Maggie's baby is… my sibling?" he echoed. "Dad got Maggie pregnant."

Without warning, he started to laugh. It wasn't the kind of laugh that people usually use when they think something is funny. It was the kind of I-don't-believe-this-is-happening laugh of a guy going into severe shock.

"Jazz?" I murmured, brushing my thumb over his knuckles again. It seemed to jerk him back to reality, because his eyes met mine and he gave me a tight smile. More of a grimace, really.

"What are you gonna do, Mom?"

"Well, we're giving Maggie a generous severance package. She can move away and start a new life somewhere else. Somewhere where she won't disrupt our family."

"Somewhere where you guys can hide her away, you mean." A shiver shot through me at the anger in Jasper's voice. "I meant, what are you going to do about Dad?"

"Your father has seen the error of his ways."

"That's utter bullshit. Dad has been screwing around on you for years, Mom. When are you going to say enough is enough? Why won't you just cut him loose? Surely all the money in the world isn't worth you losing your dignity and self-respect?" His nostrils flared. "Oh, no, wait, what am I saying? Of course it is. Once a gold-digging whore, always a gold-digging whore, right?"

Charlotte gasped at Jasper's words, and she wasn't the only one. I was staring at him with my mouth hanging open, unable to believe he'd just said something so vicious to his own mother.

"Jasper…" Her lip trembled. He threw her a contemptuous look.

"Let's get one thing clear, Mom. You are not shipping Maggie off to another state, or country, or whatever. She's the only family I care about. Her and Rosie and the baby. The rest of you can go to hell." He paused, seeming to appraise her for a long moment. "You know, I really thought you'd call it quits if something like this ever happened. But I guess I was wrong."

Without a backwards glance, he kicked open the door to the limousine and stepped back out onto the street. I dithered for a second, torn between wanting to comfort the distraught Charlotte and wanting to follow Jasper. The latter instinct won out, though, and I left the car, shutting the door behind me.

Jasper was already halfway down the street, fists clenched as he barreled forwards. I had to flat out run in order to catch him up, and when I did, it took three attempts to tug him to a stop under the awning of a nearby jewelers.

"What?" he said heavily, when he clocked the less-than-impressed look I was giving him.

"Don't 'what' me, Whitlock. You know what."

"You think I was too harsh back there."

"I think you were brutal. Couldn't you tell how crushed she already was? How would you feel if you found out that your significant other was expecting someone else's kid?" Propping my hands on my hips, I glared at him. "Have a little compassion, for Christ's sake!"

"Compassion?" He looked at me disbelievingly. "Alice, you're talking about the woman who tried to toss you out of a public brunch on your ass because your bank balance doesn't exceed a couple million. I can't believe you're lecturing me about being compassionate towards someone like that."

"I can't believe I need to lecture you in the first place! She's your mom, Jasper, and she's hurting! What you said was cruel."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm cruel! Maybe I'm not the guy you thought I was!"

"I don't believe that for one second," I retorted. "I think you're angry, and upset, and that you lashed out at your mom when you really want to yell at your dad. I think that you're angry at Maggie, too, and you don't know how to deal with that, because it's unprecedented. And I think that you're trying to push me away because you're desperately trying to make everyone around you hurt as much as you do. But I'm not going anywhere, so don't bother trying."

With my arms crossed emphatically over my chest, I eyed him. Slowly, the fight seemed to drain right out of his body, until he gripped his unruly golden hair in both hands and buried his face in his palms with an agonized groan.

"Ali," he mumbled. "How the hell did everything get so monumentally fucked up?"

That, I had no answer for. I simply slid my arms around his narrow hips, nuzzling my face into his shirt. His hands left his hair in favor of my waist, thumbs brushing my sides as he took deep, calming breaths.

"It's going to be okay, Jazz. I promise." I tried to make my voice as gentle as possible. "We can go and see Maggie. Talk to her. I'm sure she'll tell you the whole story, and you'll feel a bit better. Or maybe you won't, but at least you'll know the truth. And I'll be there with you, for as long as you need me."

"Why?" he whispered. "Why would you stay with me, knowing you have to sit through my family soap opera?"

"Because I know that you're worth it," I told him, and I meant every word. I pulled back, then, and met his bright indigo gaze. His fingers brushed the pink streak in my hair, and his eyes grew incredibly tender.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he murmured. "But it must've been something pretty good."

"Did you save orphans from burning buildings in a past life?" I teased. Jasper chuckled.

"Probably. I might've rescued puppies from abusive owners in my free time, too." He tucked my hair behind my ear and cupped my face, and the expression on his face almost knocked the knees out from under me.

He was looking at me like… like…

Like he loved me.

"Alice?"

"Yeah?" I could barely breathe. He was going to say it. Holy shit, he was going to say it.

"D'you… d'you think I should go and apologize to my mom?"

Oh. I was almost disappointed, but I recovered quickly. It was nearly as good as those three little words, because he was scared and he was vulnerable and he was leaning on me, asking my opinion. And, if I'm honest, still looking at me like I knew the real answer to life, the universe and everything.

I glanced back in the direction we'd come, to where I could just about make out the limousine still kissing the curb. My arms wound around his waist again, and I leaned my forehead against his nervously pounding heart.

"Yeah," I whispered. "I think you should."

He squeezed me tightly and tilted my chin up so that he could give me a soft kiss on the lips. As always, I melted as quickly as the Wicked Witch of the West when confronted with a bucket of water.

"Thank you," he murmured against my lips. "For putting up with me."

I smiled, and he withdrew. I watched him walk a few steps down the road, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, before turning back towards the crosswalk. I pushed the button, and waited for the light to change.

"Alice?"

Twisting round, I saw that Jasper had paused, and was facing in my direction again. His eyes were shining as he looked at me, and they were impossibly blue.

"Yeah?" I called.

"I love you!"

It took me exactly three seconds for those words to sink in. He said it! He goddamn said it! Better still, he yelled it down the street at me! Most people would probably gripe about the lack of romance involved in hollering the L word after someone, but I was not one of those people.

Fuck intimate romantic settings.

He just declared his love for me to the whole of New York City.

I grinned. He grinned. He swiveled on one foot and began to walk away again.

And I couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Hey, Jasper!"

He turned. "Yeah?"

"I love you, too!"

The smile he gave me then was brighter and more blinding than the sun.

* * *

When I got home, I was still grinning like the lovesick fool that I am. I think I might even have been humming happily to myself. I know for sure that I was skipping every third step.

Seriously, if the emo, arty, angsty Alice of a couple months ago could see me now…

Actually, she'd probably give me a high-five.

It was weird. Comparatively, my life was a veritable shit-storm of drama now, but I was weirdly Zen about the whole thing. Maybe I was turning over a new leaf. Maybe today would mark the emergence of arty, floaty, hippy Alice.

Yeah, I doubt it. But stranger things have happened.

Like the fact that, when finally managed to stop hugging myself in glee for long enough to get my key in the lock, I walked into an empty loft.

Well, not totally empty. There was still furniture and stuff. I sighed in disappointment. I'd hoped I'd be able to gush about Jasper to Cynthia for a couple hours before Dad got home. Maybe even vent to her a little about his mom drama.

Speaking of… I dug into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. Quickly tapping on the keys, I sent Jasper a short text.

Hope everything went okay with your mom. Love you, Whitlock. Xoxo

The response was immediate. We're okay. Just waiting for Dad to come home. Call you later. Love you, Brandon. Xxx

I smiled, delighted, and flipped on the light.

And that's when I realized that my loft wasn't quite as empty as I'd originally thought.

There was someone sitting on my couch.

Someone with near-black hair and hazel eyes and an expression like she'd just seen a ghost.

As far as drama went, it was out of the frying pan and straight into the fucking fire for me today.

Cause the person sitting there staring at me, Diary?

It was my mom.

Shell-shocked,

Alice.

* * *

**_BTW - You may or may not be interested to know that I've already written some of the Hamptons chapter (I know it's not til April, but I couldn't resist writing some fluff, seeing as the next couple are gonna be pretty heavy!) _**


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